


Short and the Long of It

by MellytheHun



Series: Labor of Love [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Awkward Romance, Comedy, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emperor Hux, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Kylo Ren, Kylux Big Bang, Kylux Big Bang 2017, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Hux, POV Alternating, Pining, Romance, Unreliable Narrator, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Kylo's perspective sheds some light on what exactly Hux has been entirely oblivious to.





	1. Chapter 1

“ _How_ did you even find me?” Kylo complains, wishing his shame would bury him alive.

“I’ve got a tracking device on your helmet,” Hux answers easily, accessing his comm to give their incoming pod coordinates, “You’re the type that needs a leash, unfortunately.”

Kylo would like to punch Hux across the face for that, but as soon as he moves, Hux rolls his eyes, mercilessly shoves him down by his wounded shoulder and says, “ _stars_ , Ren – stay still, I’ll alert the rescue pod they’ll need emergency workers on board, just –”

“Emergency – _what_? Don’t – don’t be dramatic, I’m _not hurt_ ,” Kylo spits venomously.

“You’re face is actually, _literally_ bisected, Ren,” Hux tells him, looking down at him drily, comm in hand, “There’s a deep, open gash of a wound _splitting_ your face. You’re really going to ‘walk this one off?’”

“My face isn’t -!”

“Ren, Gods, just stop moving already! You’ll make it scar if you irritate it too much!” Hux orders, his hands pushing down on Kylo’s chest when Kylo goes to sit up again.

In response, Kylo sneers and glares as theatrically as he can just to aggravate the cut purposefully. This act of obstinacy does not appear to impress the General.

“You’re intolerable, you know.”

“And yet you’re here to secure me,” Kylo counters, glaring directly into Hux’s unyielding gaze.

How Hux looks at him is something Kylo likes.

That Hux looks at him at all is something Kylo likes.

Most simple, mortal men tremble, twitch, glance away, look anywhere but into Kylo’s eyes because they fear what he is, what he can do and how easily he can do it.

However, General Hux has never been frightened of Kylo – for five standard years they’ve known one another and there has at no point been cowardice on Hux’s part. He looks at Kylo like he looks at any other man – perhaps as more of an equal, though.

When Kylo enters a room, Hux takes on the parade stance in a show of respect and Kylo knows that Hux thinks Kylo doesn’t notice, but he does. He notices all the small things.

He notices that Hux checks all of his itineraries – on or off-ship and he notices that Hux follows up with the doctors and nurses after every single encounter any of them have with Kylo. As if their personal care for him may not have been satisfactory until the General deems it so.

Kylo notices that Hux orders his engineers to check that all systems are highly functional and entirely safe before he goes off-planet. Hux orders those men to check those pods thrice over and he still examines it himself before he approves it for departure.

Kylo notices too that Hux doesn’t do that for anyone else.

For as long as Kylo can remember, he’s been precious cargo.

He was, before anything else, the unborn child of a princess whose planet was lost and so he must be preserved for the sake of history and lineage.

Then he was born, solid and true, physical and real and the descendent of one of the most powerful Force-users the universe would ever know and his genes were too rare and important to let go to waste.

Then he was a royal, dangerous child that had to be protected from _himself_ from his own ‘gifts,’ and _then_ he was one of very limited Jedi and for all of that, he was treated like fine china.

He was Snoke’s after that – he was the favored pupil, he was the rising star, he was the Potential and just as Leia Organa handed Ben off to Luke Skywalker to be trained like a dog but treated as delicately as glass, Snoke handed Kylo off to General Hux to be protected at all costs.

“I’m here because Snoke ordered me to be.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything back because he already knew that.

General Hux is remarkable for the respect he affords Kylo – respect Kylo isn’t entirely certain he earned. Perhaps it’s just another order of Snoke’s – Kylo isn’t sure and doesn’t care enough to ask. Admirable about the General too, though, is that in his lack of fear for Kylo, he is brutally honest and unafraid to tell Kylo precisely what he’s thinking.

“I could kill you.”

At that, Kylo looks back to Hux and sees the General with a gloved hand cupping his forehead, his eyes cast down and hair askew. He’s trembling a little and his energies read like solar flares bursting all over his body. His aura is a muddy green with self-loathing, shame, defeat, but there’s lightning flashes of anger, irritation, incitation and there are indigoes too – compelling sadness.

“I could. I really could. For what you’ve done – what you’ve _destroyed_ ,” Hux tells him, shaking his head in his hand, “Years of my life – so many _years of my life_ – spent designing _this_ , spent training for _this_ and it’s… in your _unending_ arrogance, in your insatiable _ego_ , your inflated _hubris_ , you’re inability to step outside your own selfish ambition for one _Goddamn second_ and it’s all shot to Hell, it’s all ruined, it’s _ruined_ and you knew, you _knew_ – you know what happens after this! You _know_ Snoke will kill me because I’m – what am I now? I’m useless now, all I was ever worth was Starkiller and now it’s gone and he’s going to _kill me_ all because _your_ astounding capabilities of forethought and consequence-weighing are very nearly level with that of _a toddler_!”

Letting out a heavy, deep huff, Hux mumbles mostly to himself, “that’s what I die for. This. The ruins of my genius and you. _You_. You feral animal that can hardly give a damn about your own life, so why think of others’? Considering repercussions would only stand to impede your inbred ability to demolish everything in sight at the first inkling of inconvenience because no one but you has ever known disappointment before.”

Because he wanted to be back in control of the anger-driven conversation, Kylo is about to say something – something snarky and undeserved about musing over whether or not Snoke will allow Kylo to kill Hux himself or something like that, but he doesn’t get the chance. A nearby tree topples, a wave of fire as blinding as a flare gunshot to the naked eye flashes by him, there’s a thundering roll beneath him and then the ground cracks, crumbles, splits, opens –

“Ky _lo_!”

– and in a split second the snow is gone, the fire is licking Kylo’s heels, the planet’s surface has opened beneath him into a glowing, ragged maw, but he’s not falling.

He’s not falling.

He carefully picks his head up and sees his limp forearm is being held by both of Hux’s gloved hands. His red hair is whipping everywhere, the brights of flames, the tall, black silhouettes of trees and the white of snow surrounding the image of him, poised over Kylo, a single thread between life and death. 

Hux’s eyes are wide, his jugular is visible against the collar of his greatcoat and it’s bouncing rapidly, his nostrils keep flaring with his ragged inhalations, his face is reddish and his expression is unreadable to Kylo. His grip is an inhuman vice.

“Are you – you’re okay? Stuck on anything?” Hux yells down to him.

Kylo is stunned.

He shakes his head, observing how Hux readjusts his position and how determined Hux looks when he stares down again and announces, “then I’m going to start pulling you up now. Can you get a grip on me? Secure?”

It takes a moment, but Kylo is able to communicate to his extremities and get them to move. His bloody fingers curl tightly around Hux’s forearm and Hux gives him an approving nod before taking on the task of hauling Kylo’s entire body weight from over a cliff.

“My body’s not responding,” Kylo says in way of explanation for the failure on his part to help lift himself up – his limbs genuinely aren’t responding to any brain signals he’s sending their way. He worries briefly that he’s been paralyzed somehow.

Hux seems unbothered, only focused on getting Kylo up on the ground again and accomplishing the physical task at hand, “not to worry. You’re wounded and likely in shock.”

“Shock? Don’t be ridiculous. My mind is clear,” Kylo insists.

“I’m sure it is,” Hux agrees with a grunt, pulling on Kylo’s arm until it’s nearly out of its socket, “Human limbs have what is called extended cognition. Neural tissue doesn’t only exist within the skull, Ren. The mind of your brain might be doing fine, but the mind of your body is failing. It’s been through trauma this cycle. Don’t worry. I’ve lugged worse weight than yours over longer, more inclined distances.”

Don’t worry?

Hux had _just_ been talking about his open desire to kill Kylo for destroying Starkiller, for signing his death warrant and even in his fury, even in his _righteous_ fury, he tells Kylo not to worry. That he has Kylo in hand. That he will ensure Kylo’s safety.

What sort of sense is that meant to make?

As Hux pulls Kylo up from the crevasse and away from certain death, Kylo considers saying out loud that Hux could have very well let Kylo fall, claimed to Snoke that it happened too fast, that it was out of his control and Snoke’s fury would have been a thing to behold, but Hux would not have been killed for it.

In fact, Snoke perhaps would have alluded to the idea that Kylo was his own demise and forgotten about him altogether – lament his wasted Potential, then move on to the next bigger, stronger beast he can dig his claws into.

It was an order from Snoke for Hux to retrieve Kylo and Kylo understands that, but it was not Snoke’s order to have Hux save Kylo from the collapse if such a fate befell him and he certainly knows Snoke didn’t order Hux to dive into the jagged indent of the planet himself for Kylo’s sake if the planet so decided to swallow him whole.

Faster than light itself, Hux was there, hanging onto Kylo for dear life – as if Kylo’s life were dear at all to anyone. As if he were more than cargo.

If Kylo says out loud anything about Hux choosing to save him, Hux will tell him that it was all business – it was an order, he was ordered to retrieve Kylo and not to read into it, but Kylo… he notices things.

He’d be more prone to believing that lie if the General had not shouted Kylo’s name the way he did.

 _“Ky_ **_lo_ ** _!”_

Immediate, instinctive and that slight pitch in his voice - unadulterated panic.

There was no panic in Hux at the fall of Starkiller, no stress even at the order to retrieve Kylo from the unstable surface of Starkiller, no anxiety in the face of his death sentence by his return to Snoke and _the Finalizer_ and he has never feared Kylo – dead or alive. Not before this.

If Hux had shouted “Ren,” or made some noise of protest, warning or fear or made no sound at all – it perhaps would have been excusable, but Kylo happened to notice the way Hux said his name and now he knows Hux did not catch him for the sake of his value to Snoke.

Because he was not ‘Ren,’ the cargo and burden Kylo thought himself to be to Hux when Hux dove for him - he was ‘Kylo.’

And despite this all, Hux will be killed by Snoke upon their next meeting with him – they both know this. Rescuing Kylo can’t save him from Snoke, but he has saved Kylo anyway.

Letting Kylo fall to a miserable end would have satisfied his well-earned thirst for vengeance and it would have satiated what must be only a growing resentment for the oxygen Kylo thieves.

The rescue mission is different – Hux came back to Starkiller because he was ordered to. What’s remarkable is that he forgot his anger in an instant, he followed his instincts, he saved Kylo’s life because… he couldn’t _let_ Kylo die.

But _why_?

Once Kylo is crawling up onto the icy ground again, heaving while his wounds sting and his muscles cramp, Hux lets go of him and asks breathlessly, “okay?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers briefly, wondering at what strength and agility lies beneath that First Order uniform that Hux was so readily able to pull him from the Earthly wreckage.

Unaware of Kylo’s meditations, Hux nods, turns his comm on and curses at their pilot very colorfully, threatening violent murder if he takes a minute more to find their location.

Kylo thinks Hux has gone a bit beyond what’s necessary to instill fear in the pilot, but before he can say anything in protest or in an effort to calm Hux’s very apparently frayed nerves, Hux bulldozes through the voice coming over the comm.

“ _What_?” Hux hisses, his perfectly white teeth clashing together like grinding fangs, “You think I can’t fly that pod better and faster than you can _button your pants_? You are _dispensable_ and you’d do well to _remember it_. Listen to me carefully, Officer Te’tan, if you arrive here even _ten seconds_ late, I will personally escort you from your pilot’s seat by your scalp, shove my arm down your throat, pull out your innards and string you up to _a tree_ with them, do you understand me?! Ren is _hurt_ , the planet is _collapsing_ and if I had time to set down a picnic blanket with the man, share campfire stories over glasses of wine and have a fine old time, your leisurely schedule would be perfectly acceptable, but seeing as _the world_ is _literally_ ** _falling apart_** , you’re going to have to do something _a touch_ more useful than standing around like a gibbon with your dick in your hand and whining about how there’s no stable place to land – you think I don’t _know that already_? My _feet_ are _landed_ here, Officer Te’tan – you will _land that pod_ and you will do it in the next _fifteen seconds_ , you _waste_ of human skin, or so _help me_ , I will bare-handedly disembowel you with more finesse and efficiency than you apparently have to _pilot_! So, before I lose every last thread of patience left in my body I would advise that you _get_. _Down_. _Here._ **_Now_**.”

With that, Hux shuts the comm off, looking livid, just as lethal as he’s threatened to be and a bit wild himself – his hair is as unkempt as Kylo has ever seen it, his pupils are dilated, his body is wired and tense and it takes a long, shaking inhale for Hux to gather himself.

Perhaps ‘gathering himself,’ isn’t precisely the right way to describe it.

Breathing in deeply, Hux pulls on the cuffs of his gloves, he pushes his hair back, though it doesn’t do much good against the rising wind and just as the whirr of the rescue pod is descending near them, he looks at Kylo perfectly politely and says impassively, “sorry for the delay, Ren. His incompetence will be dealt with.”

It’s so clinical, so dry, so _Hux_ – Kylo wants to smirk or laugh – he’s not even sure why.

He might really be in shock.

Perhaps he’s in more need of medical care than he first realized.

Hux’s temper is truly a sight – Kylo has rarely been witness to it and he’s never seen Hux’s temper flare so high on his account before and for him to just flip it off like a switch – it’s admirable and bizarre and delightful and laughable and a thousand other things that aren’t things Kylo has ever associated with Hux.

Perhaps a thousand other things Kylo has failed to notice about Hux.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo chooses to say over the landing of the pod and the falling of broken trees and ground around them.

As expected, Hux’s aloof expression twists into one of shock and confusion and at least throwing Hux off guard is something Kylo is a bit more familiar with. He can only cope with so many revelations in one cycle, after all.

“What?” Hux asks.

“You’re the tactician,” Kylo reminds him, “You told me to focus on the map, forget the scavenger girl, but I didn’t listen. I should have. Your insights and experience far outweigh mine in these matters and I should have listened. I am sorry for the fall of Starkiller. It is on my shoulders. Allow me to repay you.”

“ _Repay_ me?” Hux asks incredulously, “And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

“By saving your life.”

Hux’s expression melts, the worry and confusion mostly gone – in its place is something closer to fatigue, doubt and an air of nostalgia. Perhaps Hux is remembering what it is like to be grateful to someone for protection or perhaps Hux is remembering what it is like to have someone mind if he lives or dies.

Perhaps Hux doesn’t believe Kylo when Kylo tells him he will save Hux’s life from Snoke’s wrath, but Kylo does not disappoint.

It is his only request to Snoke once he has audience with him again – he advocates for Hux in Hux’s absence, insisting that his genius is not wrung dry yet, that he has so much more to offer and to kill him would be a waste, counterintuitive and counterproductive. He says that Hux is an asset, that Hux has Potential yet and he means and believes every word of it.

Snoke listens.

Hux lives.

And Kylo hears over and over, like a broken holo-recording – the way Hux shouted his name as he fell. He hears the fear laced in Hux’s voice, he wonders at it, he wishes he could hold it in his palms like a physical thing and examine it up close, take it apart, see what it is that makes it so… the way it is.

When he next sees Hux on the bridge, the both of them acknowledge silently that they’ve saved one another’s lives and it’s heady. Kylo stares for a beat longer than he ought to because Hux is suddenly not so simple anymore.

General Hux used to be interesting because he was unafraid of Kylo and that alone made him a novel man. Now, General Hux is interesting for so, so much more. Now, General Hux is interesting because he is unafraid of Kylo, but very apparently afraid of what a life without Kylo might entail.

There were no prior relationships in Kylo’s life that prepared him for such a sentiment. His inner-hands feel clumsy and too big for such a strange, fragile thing and he still isn’t sure it meant anything at all.

He meditates on it for several cycles, trying to mold some reason or logic to Hux’s expression, voice and fear, but without intruding on Hux’s psyche – a thing he knows Hux has too strong a mental fortitude for Kylo to do properly – there is little to do but ask the man himself.

To expect an honest answer is foolhardy and he knows that which only further aggravates him.

By the time he’s come to that conclusion, he’s frustrated beyond all reason – Hux was once simple – novel, but simple, like grand orchestrations of nature.

Hux was simple the way the natural world is simple, like a push of wind, like the polychromatic coloring of a flower bed, like a calm sea.

And as all natural things, Hux has also always been novel in how the spirals he exhales from his cigarras can tear a path through the air and Earth, give a planet grey tunnel-vision and in how those winds could so quickly turn, spin, set themselves on fire, strike lightning in a spinning vortex and tear through the unassuming land that births those polychromatic flowers.

He’s been novel in the way those flowers are so often toxic, made into deadly herbal teas, burning like acid through veins until they collapse on themselves; hiding thorns under satin soft and inconspicuous petals and with the slightest touch, capable of silently spreading their venomous pollen through the air, destroying sentient life from the inside out before it has a chance to know it needs aid.

And Hux is simple and novel as a calm sea in all ways, from his behavior to his eyes to his aura to how curiously enigmatic he is.

Water spits, sprays and laps; Hux seethes in frustration, shouts orders and sips at his caf the same way. Hux, too like the sea, is sometimes silent for cycles at a time, but he never stops moving and there are breaches, there are living things that break the surface of that calm, shining plane – occasionally there will be a twitch, a sneer, a hiss, a knuckle cracked, a blink lasting a moment too long and just long enough to know he’s fighting the instinct to drown whoever is closest to him.

There’s more than one life lived in him – he is more than one man and maybe he always has been. Creatures thirty, fifty, hundreds times his own size float about, dangerous, intellectual, bioluminescent, prehistoric, fanged things, vicious things – if the sand were his skin, then there are snakes under his skin, there are rays with jagged tails pointed and inked with poison like writing quills, sliding under the cover, closer to the shore than anyone realizes.

At first glance, Hux and the sea can appear smooth and glass-like to the bare eye and then in a moment’s notice, he can connect to the sky like an icy hand extending toward the Heavens themselves and birth cyclones, hurricanes and unfeeling ruin. He can roll onto the land in such devastating enormity that all perish in the wake of a single brush of his gloved thumb, he can curl his waves miles into the air, toss mortal men about like children in a suspended cradle and he will swallow those mortal men whole, the same as he will a helpless child because they are all the same to him.

He is so talented at reflection, such a good mimic of the sky that, although he’s clear as crystal, he convinces the galaxy he’s blue and no one questions that. No one wonders if he’s truly blue at all, if he’s blue beneath the surface – beneath the surface where there is an unknowable depth, a depth so unfathomable that there is no knowing what creatures, what monsters, what ghosts might be lurking at the bottom, watching from the dark so far down that light cannot access it.

Kylo always thought that those who chose to kill themselves by walking calmly into oceans were intriguing, unique souls.

So, he does the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo invites himself into Hux’s quarters and Hux is a fascinating creature, caught off-guard as he is when Kylo storms in. His eyes widen, his hand flies toward the blaster on his hip, but as soon as he sees and inwardly confirms that it’s Kylo, he stops in his tracks. His posture changes, the surprise is still present, but not all-consuming of his features.

“Ren,” Hux greets mildly as the doors slide shut behind Kylo, “Something I can do for you?”

Hux isn’t in full uniform – he’s in his private quarters, there would be no reason for him to be in full uniform, but it’s still strange. Kylo sort of thought Hux’s uniform to be something of a layer of skin and he’s never actually seen Hux dressed down at all.

“No – is there something _I_ can do for _you_?”

Brow furrowing in bewilderment, Hux responds unsteadily, “… I’m… no? I didn’t summon you here.”

“No, you never summon me – you never _have_ ,” Kylo extrapolates, walking toward Hux with a storm of disconnected thoughts whirling in his head, “I was _assigned_ to you, to partner with you, to carry half of whatever you need carried and you’ve never once – not _once_ – asked me for _anything_.”

The closer Kylo gets to Hux, the more Hux backs away, his eyes concentrated on Kylo, but his body eventually meeting one of the walls of his room, drawing him to a stop. Once he is stopped, he watches Kylo carefully, his hands unthreatening, but close enough to his blaster and dagger that if Kylo makes one misstep, there will be a very ugly confrontation.

Kylo has no intention to give Hux reason to use those weapons. He just wants answers – answers he could take against Hux’s will if he really wanted them that badly, but those answers might change if he takes them by Force at all. What would be the point of that endeavor? What if Hux harbors something like human regard for Kylo? It would be lost the moment Kylo betrayed that unspoken agreement between them that he’d not steal from Hux’s mind and so that answer would be defunct as soon as he’d have it.

Kylo knows he needs to respect Hux’s right to share or to keep private his thoughts and intentions toward him, no matter how badly he wants to know.

He will ask after them, but he won’t take them from Hux.

“And you sound offended by this _because_ … ?” Hux asks (somewhat) rhetorically, but Kylo responds anyway.

“Because it doesn’t make _sense_ ,” Kylo starts, still closing in on Hux, “We have known one another for over five standard years and I have power you do not – I can forecast battle outcomes, I can inflict Force-horror on prisoners of war, I can heal wounds visible and otherwise, I can serve you as no other man can, yet you’ve never taken advantage of that, even when it is called for – I am powerful and _assigned_ to _you_ and you’ve never used me.”

Kylo’s heart stutters and trips.

_He’s never_ **_used_** _me…_

They both stare at one another for a few beats and Kylo notices that his heart is pounding rather violently now.

He doesn’t know if he feels nervous.

He’s not felt nerves like that since puberty – they’re unfamiliar to him. He can’t even tell if they’re the same kind or what that might mean.

“You’ve never used me,” Kylo repeats, stepping closer still, “I need to know why.”

“You may have been assigned to me, Ren, but, despite your every effort to revoke it, I’ve granted you my respect,” Hux answers with a bite of sarcasm, “I don’t want to use you like cattle or an indentured servant - I’ve got those in droves, frankly, and I’m not inclined to abuse or misuse your abilities, Ren. Whether I like you or not, you are co-commander of _the Finalizer_ – you’re not a tool to manipulate. I would hope you’d afford me the same respect.”

“I do,” Kylo tells him quickly and his mind is making itself up before he knows it, before he can reign it in – he crowds Hux against the wall, his heart loud in his own ears, “Hux… I want to take Snoke’s throne from him.”

“ _What_?”

“I’d like you to have it.”

There is a long moment of tense silence and when Kylo chances looking up from Hux’s chest into Hux’s eyes, he gets lost there for a while. Hux’s eyes are calculating and Kylo can tell Hux is wondering whether or not to trust him.

_Kylo_ doesn’t even know if his treasonous proposal is to be trusted.

“Rebuild the Empire my grandfather believed in,” Kylo murmurs, “You can do what the others have all failed to – you are brighter and more resilient than them. You can exceed where they all fell short. Help me, Hux. Help me destroy him.”

Shaking his head, brows turned up in confusion, Hux asks him, “why?”

“ _He_ has used me, Hux,” Kylo admits through grinding teeth, “He’s used me my entire life – before I was even born. I _never_ had a choice – not in any of this. I’m not – not even a _person_. I’m just a product. I’m whatever he groomed me to be and my pride might get in the way sometimes, but I know my limitations enough. I know I need your help in this.”

_I need the help of someone who will not use me and so cannot abuse me_ , Kylo prays, _I need_ ** _you_** _. I need you to respect me. I need you and all your wit and power and restraint and genius. Help me, Hux._

When Kylo opens his eyes again, he sees Hux regarding him strangely.

Hux is outlining his face with just his eyes, he’s inhaling deeply and then he’s staring Kylo in the eye. It’s intimate and unexpectedly intense.

Kylo can sense a lot coming from Hux – there is frustration, envy, aggravation, a desire to leave Kylo helpless and maybe even betray him. Maybe even go to Snoke with Kylo’s talk of treason and mutiny, leave him to whatever tortures Snoke might dredge up for him.

There’s something else in Hux’s energies, though – something innocuous, _genuinely_ innocuous – almost childlike in its simplicity. It’s curious, gentle and Kylo decides then that the pounding of his heart is definitely reminiscent of his romantic, youthful disposition.

Hux’s eyes look like a much darker blue in the shadow of Kylo’s figure boxing him in. Kylo rarely ever stands so close to Hux like this – in fact, he’s fairly sure he’s never stood so closely to Hux – and it’s interesting to see him so up-close, to see just how opaque his lashes are, how vibrantly honey-orange his hair, how alabaster his skin, how sharp his cheekbones and pronounced his cupid’s bow.

For the purposes of recognizing poisons before they’re consumed, Kylo can identify several scents through a type of mental index - his olfactory memory, like anyone else’s, is his strongest and there’s plenty of smells coming off of Hux. Hux smells like clean leather, bergamot orange, musky vetiver and a bit like that jasmine and strawberry tea he thinks no one knows he drinks.

It seems to Kylo that Hux would like the ship’s crew to believe he’s as bitter and dark as the caf he drinks in full view of them, but Kylo knows about Hux’s hidden sweet tooth and how he longs for the end of the work cycle so he can sit alone in his quarters, at his desk with his cat and have his sweet, steeped tea.

He wonders if it’s worth mentioning that he knows.

He wonders what it might be like, to share a cup with Hux - if Hux were ever so generous to offer him one.

Somehow, the thought of asking Hux for a cup of his favorite tea seems exponentially more dangerous than asking him to commit treason.

As the light in Hux’s eyes shift, indicating a decision being made, Kylo decides to try his best not to _breathe_ – nevermind speak.

A century passes and then Hux nods curtly and says softly, “for the record, you’ve done nothing to deserve it, but I’ll help you.”

For some reason, Kylo wants to say ‘I knew you’d come through for me, I knew I could trust you,’ despite not having known those things until this very moment.

Maybe some part secret even from him knew all along? Kylo can’t be sure.

He imagines all that ocean, all that wind, all that color he associates with Hux’s spirit, he thinks of the power vibrating under Hux’s skin, so underestimated, so underplayed, so subtle and so neglected and he is thrilled to have Hux wield it for him.

Hux says he will help and Kylo hears promises of cyclones, hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, poison, thorns, venom, fangs and dark darker than dark can be. He hates himself for not having paid Hux proper attention until now and he knows too that he never would have if Hux had not cared for him the way he did on Starkiller.

And that’s what it was – on Starkiller. What Hux exposed. He cared. His voice hitched, his hand flew out into frostbite and charring burns not because Kylo was cargo or he had ulterior motives or direct orders – he flung himself into action because he _cared_.

He still cares.

Kylo thinks of how it felt, that moment he didn’t fall, that moment he was saved on Starkiller, he thinks of how Hux saved his life without a care for his own safety, diving into the fire and ice to grab hold of him because he was more than cargo.

He was _Kylo_ \- he was Kylo and now Kylo longs to hear Hux say his name again, regard him in that human way no one else ever has and call him by his chosen name. He wants to hear Hux say, ‘ _Kylo_ ,’ in that upper class accent of his, to say it with pride or reliance or even with the fear Kylo first heard it in, and the imagination of that alone gives him pleasant chills.

Kylo wants to ask why he means anything at all to Hux, he wants to ask what he did to deserve that, but instead his body goes lax, his eyes shut like he’s dreaming and if he were more tender a man, he could have cried, though he’s not sure what for. Relief, maybe?

“Thank you, Hux,” Kylo says – thanking him for so much more than agreeing to help, thanking him for so much more than freeing him, “thank you.”

At the time, Kylo wasn’t entirely sure what General Hux thought of him – undeserving of authority certainly, but still important, somehow. He wants to know what Hux thinks of him. He wants to know what Hux feels when he thinks of Starkiller, of his rescue – of Kylo.

He supposes time will be his greatest ally in that endeavor for knowledge.

Over a private comm channel, Kylo and Hux confer with the Knights and easy as breathing, Hux designs weaponry personalized to all of them and their strengths and, under the pressure of a ticking clock, Hux produces all of it within a standard week.

His efficiency and competence is truly remarkable.

It is at Snoke’s citadel that they all actually meet for the first time – Sol Ren, Kylo’s second-in-command, falls hard and fast for General Hux and Kylo _does not_ like it.

Sol and Hux shake bare hands upon meeting and it feels far too personal – _Kylo_ has never even touched Hux’s skin before. Even when Hux saved him on Starkiller, Hux’s hands were gloved and impersonal.

The significance of touching Hux’s skin isn’t lost on Sol either and that only serves to aggravate Kylo further.

He and Sol don’t trade any words, but their challenging stares are more than enough to establish that some affair of honor has been issued.

Thankfully, Hux seems entirely unaware of the adoration in Sol’s eyes – that or he cares so little that it is non-existent to him out of sheer power of will. Either way, Kylo makes a point to stand between the two whenever Sol gets too close to Hux for Kylo’s liking.

Hux only takes notice once – he glances up at Kylo and cocks a curious brow – without his mask, Kylo feels very exposed nowadays and looks away quickly to keep from displaying too much. Hux doesn’t ask after him.

The Knights’ confrontation with Snoke almost immediately dissolves into chaos.

In the heat of battle, Kylo very nearly forgets Hux is there at all. He later comes to think that his forgetting of Hux is intentional – that it’s Hux’s own type of guerilla warfare – lurking in the shadows until the time is right, until he’s got some sort of high ground, allowing everyone to forget he was so much as a voice in the air and then appearing before them all, taller and stronger than before with some great plan of action to uncover.

He doesn’t appear when he’s got an advantage, though. In fact, Kylo can’t decipher _why_ in all the stars Hux would let himself be known when he does – he was hidden in relative safety and he draws a spotlight onto himself for what, to Kylo, at the time, appears to be no sane reason at all.

Snoke’s hand is outstretched and squeezing the life out of Kylo when his eerily elongated forearm is entirely blasted from his body. Kylo falls to the ground and, coughing violently, turns to see Hux with a cocked hip, blood trickling down the side of his face, his eyes sharp and clever, lips begging to smirk and his blaster still smoking.

“Hands to yourself, Supreme Leader.”

Infuriated, Snoke refocuses his energies on Hux, forgetting Kylo and levitating Hux by the neck, suffocating him and shouting abuse, “you filth! You think you’re big and mighty now, with _my_ pupils lifting you up? You’re still just a military _experiment_ – you’re _nothing_ , even with my Knights at your beck and call.”

“Those souls don’t belong to you,” Hux chokes out, gripping at the phantom hand closed around his throat, “I never did either. Your most lethal error was in believing a soul is a thing to be had. And I dare say, sir, you’d not expend the energy on taunting me if I weren’t more than a military experiment – I’m more than that and you know it.”

Snoke’s eyes go wide, then turn to slits and he sneers, “consider your options carefully now. If you make an act redeeming enough, I might just let you live. If you do not step down now, you know I can and will kill you, General.”

“Oh, sir,” Hux gasps, narrowing his eyes, blood painting the beds of his lips, “I _invite you_ to.”

In a flash of violent fury, Hux is thrown against a far wall, stone and dust crumbling around him and he falls, limp and deathly to the ground. His hair obscures his face, it’s impossible to tell from the distance Kylo is at whether or not he’s dead, but that uncertainty, that unease turned rage empowers Kylo, sets him on the ground running and with the aid of his fellow Knights, Snoke falls at Kylo’s hand. The others are satisfied when Snoke’s death is confirmed – Sol hesitates, though.

He turns to Kylo and says with worry, “the General –”

“I _know_ ,” Kylo bites at Sol, irritated that Sol thinks Hux is not his first priority.

He turns to head toward Hux and Sol follows close behind, making Kylo’s hackles rise and fists clench.

“I can heal him – I am particularly good at –”

“I _know_ what you’re particularly good at, Sol,” Kylo mutters angrily, making his way to Hux, “And I know I’m stronger than you. I can heal him fine. Leave him to me.”

The Knights quiet down behind him as he goes to Hux’s prone figure. He kneels beside Hux, looks up the stone wall and sees the impact site of where Hux’s head and back made an indent. The crater is troublingly deep.

His brow furrows with worry and he crouches close to Hux, leaning over him. He brushes Hux’s hair away from his eyes and sees that they’re shut, but he can sense a weak heartbeat, a shallow pulse and – while dimmer than usual – there is still brain activity.

He reaches a hand out to Hux’s face, his skin touching Hux’s for the first time and he’s scared for some reason – scared that when he touches Hux, Hux will be cold, he’ll have been long dead and time will have escaped Kylo somehow, left him with nothing. Left him without the one who _cared_.

His fingertips brush Hux’s thankfully warm temple and Kylo shuts his eyes, breathing in deeply, if a little unsteadily.

“Hux.”

Nothing. Not so much as a shift in the energy around Hux – no sign of internal or external recognition.

“Hux,” Kylo repeats, but no answer comes.

He opens his eyes, observing Hux for any sign of life. But, no finger twitches, his eyes don’t move under their lids, no heartbeat jumps to action, there’s no change in his pulse or brain activity…

“Hux?”

His fingertips press a bit accidentally into Hux’s hair and Kylo intakes abruptly, but softly at how petal-soft it is. How mortal. How human. How fragile.

His chest tightens up and he asks again, “Hux? Please… Hux?”

Then, miraculously, the pulse visible from Hux’s exposed jugular pumps with a bit more vigor, his hands twitch, he groans in pain (which is really just a scratchy, tortured sound when it comes through the binding of Hux’s swollen throat) and his icy and silver eyes open up. They flutter briefly, like he might be falling asleep, but Kylo calls for him again and Hux’s eyes flutter open more readily.

Hux breathes in sharply through his nose as he comes to and he nearly chokes on it. Kylo can feel Sol approaching, about to offer his services and so Kylo shadows Hux, curling over him protectively and wrapping his hands around Hux’s throat.

He nearly stops before he even starts because he feels the spike of fearful betrayal come from Hux’s psyche, now in survivalist-overdrive. He’s pained to think that Hux would suspect him of murdering him when Hux nearly just died to buy him a few more minutes of recovery and energy.

He hopes he can prove Hux’s suspicions wrong. He trusts Hux with his life – more than that, he can trust Hux with his respect, his dignity, his own faith. He never thought he’d have that. Not with anyone. He has no way to repay Hux for that.

He wonders then what Snoke meant when he was harassing Hux – that Hux was a military experiment, but he doesn’t think now is the time to ask. He suspects it has to do with how young Hux is for how high ranking he is.

Perhaps, if he does everything he can right by Hux in repayment for what Hux has granted him on this day, Hux will gift him his own trust and Kylo can ask that day. Perhaps there will come a day that he can ask a many things and Hux won’t hesitate to answer him – that Hux’s trust in him will be so deeply rooted and so stable that he’ll share every part of himself that there is to be shared and he’ll share it only with Kylo.

Draining what’s left of his spiritual energy to show up Sol and keep those stranger’s hands far from Hux, he heals Hux as best he can, a final burst of power coming from his aura like a solar flare. He’s so exhausted, he wants to collapse, but he can’t rest until he knows Hux is okay.

The swelling about Hux’s neck goes down as Kylo spreads cooling energies and Hux, very impatiently, sucks in a very raspy, rough, sandpapery breath at what must be a relieving, if odd sensation.

“Hux?” Kylo asks, quietly, “Can you speak?”

Kylo frowns at how Hux grimaces and how Hux’s brows curve in, in response. Hux always looks so cocksure and confident – seeing him look beaten down, tired, unsure and maybe a little dazed is sort of unnerving. Unnatural.

Kylo can tell already that Hux’s vocal cords are severely damaged and it might hurt Hux to even try and speak. He needs to make sure that Hux hasn’t suffered some sort of brain hemorrhaging or something, though. He needs to know that Hux’s mind is still intact, that Hux even understands him.

He touches Hux’s far temple gently and gives a small telepathic nudge, letting Hux know he’s in there.

_Have you suffered any other wounds?_

‘Beyond the obvious,’ Kylo leaves out because he respects Hux’s intellect enough.

_Broken ribs, certainly, bruised bones, muscles and skin, dislocated shoulder, potential concussion, what feels like a fracture in my tailbone and while you’ve taken the pain from my throat, I think my vocal cords might be permanently damaged._

Normally, Kylo may have laughed at Hux so quickly shifting back to clinical high-functionality after a head wound so severe, but the number and acuteness of his pains keep any good humor from touching Kylo’s heart.

Instead of the bubbly rise of laughter at Hux’s flippant attitude toward his own woes, Kylo is immediately flooded with hot _rage_ – he won’t tolerate Snoke staying past his welcome, no matter what form he takes. He is dead and gone and Kylo will see to it that any harm left by him will be as dead and gone as he is now.

Imagining Hux rendered mute by Snoke pains him deeply – he cannot allow it to be the realized truth.

_I will not allow for anything he’s done to you to last_ , Kylo promises, trying hard not to let his anger show, though he’s not entirely sure he succeeds in hiding it, _I will get you to the med-bay. We’ll treat these wounds and I’ll see to it that you heal perfectly._

He assures Hux of that because he wants to, because he means it – that, and Sol is listening in just as intently as the other Knights and he wants Sol to know his place. Kylo is Hux’s healer, no matter if he’s best at healing or not – Hux is only his to touch or serve.

_…thank you, but I’m fairly sure I can call for aid and get to the med-bay myself. These kindnesses really aren’t necessary, Ren._

_They really are_ , Kylo replies, brushing some of Hux’s stray hairs from his forehead, wondering at how vulnerable and soft Hux is now before him, wishing he could do more for Hux than bring him to medical aid, _I couldn’t have done this without you. None of us could have. We all fought valiantly, but without you, this would all have been for naught. We owe you this victory._

To Kylo’s alarm and astonishment, Hux’s cheeks flush. It happens _visibly_ – he blushes like a young maiden or something and by the irritated look in Hux’s eyes, Hux can sense his own flustering and disapproves of it.

Kylo wonders how much Hux might like flattery like that – he doesn’t mean it falsely, he wouldn’t have told Hux that if he didn’t believe it wholeheartedly. The reaction is very new and very fascinating, though. He senses Hux’s embarrassment and he tries not to smile. He’s really rather flattered that his good opinion can mean so much to the General.

That the General clearly holds his opinion in such high respect.

_You... really don’t need to say things like that._

_Yes, I really do_ , Kylo insists, unsure why Hux keeps brushing off his attempts at gentleness; perhaps Hux is unused to people being gentle with him and is suspicious of him. No matter the situation, Kylo asks, _Aside from these injuries, are you okay?_

Hux shuts his eyes and Kylo is about to tell him not to fall asleep, but then he sees how Hux’s eyes shift under his lids, like he’s running an internal check. So, with Hux’s eyes closed, Kylo supposes it’s safe enough to smile sleepily at the man.

That Hux thinks he could call for aid on his own is absurd – he can’t even speak yet, he’s got broken and fractured bones, bruised organs and muscles and he’s lying back with enough overgrown pride to still feel embarrassment over flattery.

General Hux is a bit ridiculous, Kylo has decided. Very likeable, though. More likeable than Kylo ever gave him the chance to show. Or maybe more than Kylo ever took the time to notice.

Eventually, Hux’s inner-voice answers, _no, I think I am alright otherwise._

_We’ll know for sure once we get a doctor to scan you_ , Kylo determines readily, unwilling to take any risks. Not with Hux.

He remembers how bravely Hux faced Snoke, how fearless he was – how expert his shot was, how he fought for the humanity of the Knights to be recognized, that they were not things to be owned or controlled and he did it all not just for himself, but for Kylo.

Kylo was one of those ‘souls,’ Hux told Snoke he couldn’t have. His heart thumps hard once and he worries about the growing warmth in his chest.

_I didn’t know you had such a warrior in you, Hux_ , Kylo decides to compliment him, _You impressed me._

In true Hux-fashion, he uses what little energy he has to roll his eyes and sarcastically reply, _and oh, how you know I live to impress you, Ren._

Kylo wants to shake his head in bewilderment, he wants to smile, but everything is too broken still, too dangerous, too unsure. He wants Hux to be in a hospital bed, resting and healing – he wants Hux back on the bridge, shouting orders, he wants Hux in a throne and a crown and he wants Hux donned in the finest robes and the most sincere happiness and he wants Hux to feel safe.

He wants to save Hux the same way Hux saved him on Starkiller – in that multitude of ways, but he doesn’t know how Hux did it. He wants to, though – he wants to be that person, that gives Hux all he will ever need to feel content and glad he is alive.

Those truths all hit him before he’s ready for them – he docks them for later, shelving those intense feelings for later inspection. For now, all he can do in the whirlwind of revelation is wrap Hux up in his arms.

He knows it’s possessive and he has no right to his possessiveness, but he wants Sol to see and he wants the other Knights to see and he hopes Hux can feel his gentle intentions. He can feel Hux’s confusion, but he’s not worried that Kylo will try to kill him anymore – that’s, sadly, an improvement.

It seems as though it takes a moment for Hux to realize he’s being hugged and not checked for injuries or something. His head is tucked in Kylo’s neck and both Kylo’s arms are holding him up from the ground, not tightly, but with enough pressure that he hopes it’s a comfort.

The moment Hux realizes he’s being hugged, a tentative hand brushes Kylo’s side, as though he’s going to return the gesture, but then he goes limp again and very worried, Kylo lets him down enough to see his face.

“He’s only fainted,” Sol reassures Kylo quickly.

Fighting the urge to shout at Sol that he knows damn well how to assess a prone body for injuries, Kylo grits his teeth and stares down at Hux. Kylo doesn’t like that – Hux has a head wound and needs medical attention. He knows one shouldn’t sleep after having suffered a head injury. If Hux has fainted, though, there’s not much to be done for it.

He nods curtly and announces, “we need to get him to the med-bay. Now.”

He slips his arms under Hux’s back and knees and on aching legs, stands with Hux’s impressive weight. He’s a tall gentleman, but it would seem Kylo underestimated Hux’s muscle mass. He’s so thin, after all. Hux always seemed so lithe and light on his feet – how was Kylo to know that it was all muscle? Very much like a venomous snake, Hux. Thin, quick, graceful, beautiful, all slim muscle and very deadly. He likes it.

The other Knights offer to take the load of Hux’s weight, but Kylo doesn’t allow for any of them to touch him. Even when there’s open floor space and a cot on the pod they take back to _the_ _Finalizer_ , Kylo insists on holding him.

The Knights follow Kylo to the med-bay, all of them dirtied and bloodied and in need of at least bandaging. Kylo doesn’t let anyone near his own person, though – not until Hux is seen to.

The nurses take Hux from him, though he surrenders the man very reluctantly. The nurses are patient with him – more so than they ever have been. He thinks they can see the worry emanating from him. The other Knights certainly can.

Kylo is cut off from seeing Hux when they take him behind a curtain and cut his dirtied uniform away. He’s washed cautiously with sanitizing waters and soaps, put into a hospital gown and then wired up to a bed.

His vitals are being tracked, there are gels and creams being rubbed into his arms, ribs and neck, there are three I.V’s going into his arms and entirely dressed down, hair floppy and wet, eyes shut and body lax with drugs and weakness, Hux has never looked more human.

He could have died – so easily, Hux could have been snuffed out in an instant. By all means, he should have died on impact with the wall, but his skull has survived the crash, his mind and memories are intact, his body is wounded and broken, but only temporarily and if Kylo believed in a God, he’d thank Him – thank Him that Hux is still there to be cared for.

And that hits Kylo like a comet crashing into a planet’s surface – Hux is strong in his weakness, he is supernatural in his humanity, he is spectacular in his likelihood and he is positively captivating in every way and Kylo _cares_. He _cares_ about Hux just as Hux cares about him – extraordinarily and intensely and without clear reason.

Kylo is granted permission to come near Hux once all his bedside appliances are set up, his vitals have evened out and his wounds have been dressed. He’s got that iodoform smell that takes up the whole med-bay and Hux would probably hate that. He smells like menthol and sterilization, but he smells clean and healthy too and despite the sharpness of the odor, it’s relieving. It’s the smell of immediate medical attention if there’s cause for it and the smell of having made it back to safety in time.

There’s color back in his face too.

Approaching the bed, Kylo stands so that his waist is near Hux’s shoulders and he reaches out a tentative hand, wondering if it’s really okay to touch Hux if he’s asleep.

He supposes that if Hux never knows, it’s okay – it’s fine. He’s not thinking of anything untoward, after all.

He just… he reaches past the pillow and pets back some of Hux’s still-damp hair, marveling at how velvety Hux’s hair and skin are. Strangely, and certainly unexpectedly, when he begins to draw away, Hux turns his face toward Kylo’s hand, chasing after the affection.

Kylo’s neck and face feel warm – too warm – but he yields quickly and puts his hand down on the pillow despite his basic sense of self-preservation and he watches in enchantment as Hux tucks his cheek into Kylo’s palm.

Hux sighs contentedly in his sleep and Kylo brushes his thumb to and fro, gazing down at Hux and wondering how he wound up where he is, how he is, who he is. Feeling what it is he’s feeling.

“Kylo Ren?”

Taking his hand back in a rush, Kylo twirls around to face Sol in the doorway.

“Sol Ren,” Kylo greets stiffly, “… something I can do for you?”

There is absolutely no reason for either of them to pretend that Kylo would look less guilty if he had actual blood on his hands.

They skip the formalities, then.

“No, I… he is dear to you?” Sol asks outright, his arms coming in front of him to hold his wrists; Kylo can feel Sol’s desire to touch Hux as he just has now. It’s nothing untoward, but Kylo thinks he might actually cut Sol’s hands off at the wrists if he even tried such a thing.

When Kylo doesn’t answer right away, Sol adds, “you never mentioned him.”

Kylo’s whole body is revolting with tightness and butterflies and inward flopping and flipping and thumping. It’s entirely inappropriate and completely obvious. _All_ of him is obvious – that he feels deeply for Hux, that he didn’t _mean_ to feel deeply for Hux, that he cares too much about Hux, that he _knows_ he cares too much about Hux, that he’s jealous, that he’s possessive, that he’s overprotective and that he knows all those things as well and knows he has no right to those feelings.

He drops eye-contact with Sol and admits, “I didn’t know until recently.”

“I see,” Sol replies, not looking entirely convinced, “I’m… I’m not to pursue him, then?”

“I won’t hesitate to kill you, Sol,” Kylo tells him frankly, finally able to look him in the eye again, feeling that jealousy rise at even the idea of Sol pursuing Hux romantically; “General Hux has given me what no one else ever has and I will not have him taken from me. He isn’t even mine to have taken from – nevertheless, I want you far from him. Do not insult him with coldness, we owe him our freedom, but consider all pursuits with General Hux a personal offense against me. Offenses that I will not tolerate.”

The air is thick with tension and frustration, but Sol nods anyway, ignores the death-threat, bows and leaves with a polite parting.

With a heaving sigh, Kylo sits himself into a chair at the foot of Hux’s bed. He doesn’t think he’s honestly staved off Sol – perhaps for the time being, Sol will behave, but Kylo could feel his resistance.

Sol saw immediately in Hux what it took Kylo over five standard years to recognize – Sol feels he’s more deserving of the opportunity to pursue Hux and Kylo knows it. He can feel what Sol thinks of him, thinks of Hux, thinks of himself… and he can’t entirely disagree.

Sol adores Hux and has from the moment he laid eyes on the man and maybe that means he is more deserving somehow. Kylo doesn’t know and frankly, he’s much too tired to think more on it.

He means to stay awake until Hux wakes, but drained of every last modicum of energy his soul has to offer, he falls asleep rather quickly in his chair. He spends three hours there, unconscious and developing an awful strain in his neck which he groans in frustration about when he wakes up to it.

When Kylo wakes, Hux is still asleep, not having seemed to have moved an inch and though the crisis with Sol Ren has been averted for the time being, Kylo still has no idea what he’s going to do about what he’s discovered about himself – if there even is anything to be done about it.

He needs to figure himself out.

He moves the chair out of the way of foot traffic and then stands by Hux’s shoulders again. He leans down, presses his forehead to Hux’s temple and allows his lips to drag across the skin of Hux’s cheekbone when he whispers, “I will be thinking of you, General. Rest well.”

With that, he departs from the med-bay with hours of meditation ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

The conclusions Kylo comes to while meditating over Hux are… less than comforting.

His feelings run deep - very, very deep - and he’s not entirely sure when and where they rooted. They are as much a part of him as his midi-chlorians, though, just as constant and true as the blood in his veins, the melanin in his eyes, just as unique and unreplicatable as his fingerprints and as ever growing as his hair.  

What he feels for Hux is less of a feeling and more of an entire body - an entire sentience outside himself, a consciousness all its own that lives and breathes beside him, inside him, outside him - Hux is everywhere and everything. All because he happened to panic when Kylo nearly died on Starkiller.

It seems nonsensical and it probably is. Kylo’s mind flashes back to Starkiller often, though. It makes his stomach feel tight and his face warm. He feels glad, but nervous as well and he remembers how vibrant Hux’s hair looked, how icy and resolved Hux’s eyes looked and his entire body reacts.

When Hux is out of the med-bay, Kylo avoids him - he’s glad to hear that Hux is recovering with only a few wraps and bandages donning him, but he doesn’t go to tell Hux so himself.

He smiles when he gets an alert that Hux is back on the control bridge - he smiles because he knows for a fact that Hux should not be walking about so soon, that he should be healing and recovering, not shouting orders and instilling terror in Officers, but Hux is not the type to waste time ‘laying about,’ as he might call it.

He has to fight the temptation to go see Hux on the bridge - everything in him wants to go to Hux, but he doesn’t feel like he’s ready.

And since when has ever needed to _ready_ himself before seeing Hux?

He’s not entirely certain he can maintain the status quo of their relationship now and he’s never been one for subtlety. His intensity can be overpowering, even when he’s trying his best to dim it and he’s self-aware enough to know that.

He wants Hux to remain a companion to him, though - in whatever form that might take. Whatever truce or tentative trust they’ve established is still fragile and new.

He doesn’t want Hux to change his mind all because Kylo’s heart has the same domesticity and sense of self preservation as a rabid junkyard dog.

So, Kylo stays away. Even when Hux is discharged, when he’s up and about and available to talk to, to eat with, to work beside - Kylo meditates, he trains, he keeps odd hours to avoid Hux.

He still spends time with the Knights, particularly when he’s maintaining his physical training in the ship’s gym, but he keeps away from Hux. Away from Hux is how he should stay until he knows he can control whatever warmth is spreading all over his chest.

He intends to stay away for a good long while.

Sol makes this exponentially difficult, however.

For Kylo’s honor and Hux’s well-being and whatever tenuous thing is budding between them, he keeps away, but that doesn’t keep Sol away.

To Kylo’s dismay and extreme irritation, Sol makes visits to Hux while Kylo is away from him, engaging the General, endearing himself to the General, building rapport and extending branches of friendliness and more-than-friendless to him - directly disobeying Kylo’s orders.

It makes Kylo’s blood boil.

He’d have stepped in sooner as well, settled his foot down hard and drawn a line in the sand before Sol’s very eyes had he not been sure he’d make a fool of himself in front of Hux.

He’s so sure he’ll make some spluttering mess of himself in front of Hux, so positive that all of his inner-turmoil will be visible on his face, he ignores Sol’s insubordinations for too long a time. He ignores Sol and avoids Hux until it is impossible to do so. Until Hux approaches him right before he and the Knights are about to go planet-side.

“Ren – I need to speak to you.”

Kylo normally would have entertained Hux in gladness, but he is far too on-edge. Word of Skywalker being on the ground is flitting through the air and he needed to be planetside hours ago.

He’s also _intensely_ nervous to be standing before Hux as he is now before he feels ready to. He keeps his head down and his eyes away from Hux - he sits in open quarters, strapping on his armor and giving Hux as cold a shoulder as possible.

Perhaps if he’s rude enough, Hux will stop his pursuit for conversation and Kylo can focus on Skywalker and revenge and not the tingling sensations he gets in his gut when Hux enters the room.

“ _What_?” Kylo asks impatiently.

Even from his periphery, Kylo can see Hux holding his holopad out in front of him, how his collared shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the wraps on his still-healing arms are showing. He’d like to look over those wraps and what’s underneath, heal, possibly, what the nurses at the med-bay could not. He imagines Hux must be breaking several medical protocols, being up and about as he is. He doesn’t mention that, though.

“I… have a proposition for you.”

Blushing furiously at Hux’s wording, Kylo glowers at nothing, trying to shake the unfamiliar sensation of hot goose-flesh along his back and arms.

He’s too anxious, too nervous and too frustrated for this. He doesn’t understand what Hux has done to him since Starkiller and he needs Hux to _go away_.

Without so much as a modicum of Force-sensitivity, General Hux has somehow managed to launch one of the most distressing psychological attacks on Kylo he’s ever experienced and he’s still not even sure what the attack _is_.

“Hells, this can’t wait til later? I made _one_ deal with you _once_ and it worked out _fine_ – I’d like it if we could go back to despising each other now. I have too much to do and don’t you have an empire to build or something?”

Despising each other again _would_ be rather convenient but besides realizing that despising someone on command is probably not a thing that happens in interpersonal relationships, Kylo hates what he’s said as soon as he’s said it.

He’s feeling too untethered to think clearly. He’s done more than enough to illustrate that he is not in a mood for talking, but Hux doesn’t appear to be leaving or catching on in the slightest. He wonders how Hux can be so brilliant, yet still so obtuse, socially.

Testily, Hux tells him, “I would only need your attention for a few moments.”

Guilt snaps at the ankles of Kylo’s conscience like a small, incessant dog and he _supposes_ he can tolerate Hux a minute or more so.

After all, with only a little while before he needs to be off-ship and away from Hux, with such limited time, how can he manage to make an ass of himself with such a small window?

“Fine,” Kylo surrenders, “I’m giving you the few moments it will take for me to get my armor on and then I’m going planetside.”

“Right – it’s about that. You’re dropping down on Ganthel, right?”

“ _Yes_ , Hux, you’ve _seen_ my itinerary.”

_You_ ** _wrote_** _my itinerary for me_ , Kylo wants to say, but he’s already feeling overheated from remembering receiving the thoughtful, very thorough itinerary Hux constructed for him and the Knights.

It was immensely considerate of Hux to do without any sort of order to do so.

For the sake of his pride, Kylo would rather not mention it.

“Well, then all there is to ask is…”

Just like that, Hux trails off and frays Kylo’s nerves with silence. He gives Hux a count of five, confused about what in the stars would make Hux hesitate like this.

Unwilling to face Hux still, Kylo barks from over his shoulder, “well? Get it out already!”

He hears Hux clear his throat, hesitates a beat or so longer and then…

“... you and I should have a child.”

The galaxy spins at approximately 1.3 million miles per hour, the systems within the galaxy move at speeds varying between 500,000 miles per hour to 970,000 miles per hour and the stars that those systems orbit can move between speeds of 1,000 and 5,000 miles per hour and _all of them_ just slammed on the brakes at once.

There’s loud ringing in Kylo’s ears, his blood feels like it’s flowing backwards or in whirlpools and his inner-ear is entirely off-kilter.

Unsure he’s heard Hux correctly - because, frankly, Kylo’s pretty sure they’re speaking two different languages, if this isn’t a very well-constructed hallucination anyway - he turns slowly to face the General and in abject bewilderment, asks, “... what?”

“You and I should have a child,” Hux repeats a bit more bravely, his cheeks are flushed and he’s gesturing with his holopad, “we –"

“No.”

Kylo’s not even sure if this interaction is actually happening.

Strangely, Hux looks caught off-guard, or even something close to… _affronted_.

But he can’t be, because that would be insane.

All of this is insane. This isn’t happening at all, anyway - this entire conversation isn’t happening, because combinations of words like the ones Kylo has heard Hux make don’t actually happen in reality.

“But we –" 

“No!”

“Ren –"

“ _No_!”

“If you just -”

“ ** _No_**!”

“ _What_ , having a family with _me_ is so repulsive to you?” Hux explodes, certainly red in the face now, if he hadn’t been before, “You know, you’re not exactly my pick of the litter either! You’re just what makes sense! Get down from your high horse, why don’t you!”

_High-horse!?_ Kylo wants to pull his hair out! None of this makes sense!

“I’m not on a high horse, I’m just not _insane_!” Kylo yells back, muscles tensing all over, “ _Why_ in _all_ the stars would you and I ever, _ever_ – even _consider_ – having a _child_ together?”

All things considered, Kylo thinks that’s a pretty reasonable fucking question.

“Well, if you’d just _listen_ to me, I’d _explain_ why I came to this conclusion,” Hux hisses, gesturing again toward his holopad, as if Kylo is the one acting imbalanced, “You and I live dangerous lives – the type of lives that don’t last long. If I pass, Phasma can take the crown by force, but her influence won’t be as powerful as a blood heir to the throne. If you pass, you leave no heir behind to complete whatever endeavors you’ve begun and _together_ – _together_ we could create a royal heir with my genius and your Force-sensitivity.”

… that sounds far too much like Snoke for Kylo’s liking.

Too much like someone who sees ‘POTENTIAL,’ written in sixty-foot high, neon flashing lights above Kylo’s head.

“And you’d go about this _how_?” Kylo asks skeptically, the irritation of possibly being asked to be _used_ by Hux for power crawling under his skin.

“Well, on Ganthel they have cloning machines near the industrial areas,” Hux tells him simply, “You forget that I’m a master engineer, Ren. Bring me a cloning device and I can repurpose it – instead of one thread of data to clone, we can combine two and use the artificial womb given for gestation – and we can even pick and choose what genes we’d like to be dominant. Our child could be… rather unstoppable, Ren. It’s beneficial to us both and it leaves a positive heir for the throne once the worst of this is over.”

Silence reigns triumphant again because Kylo has no idea how to voice whatever the mess inside his head is. The mess that is a cluster of indistinguishable, incoherent thoughts in a pile like a rat king and on fire.

He doesn’t understand what sort of response Hux was expecting and he’s still contemplating whether or not this is the correct plane of reality he’s used to operating on when he answers again, “no.”

With a petulant scowl, Hux growls out, “ _why not_?”

_Because you sound like_ ** _Snoke_** , Kylo wants to say.

“Do I actually need to list the reasons to you? We’re not compatible in any form whatsoever, I never wanted to be a father –"

“I don’t need you to father the child.”

It’s like a punch to the solar plexus.

Hux’s voice so clear, so sharp and certain...

_“I don’t need you to father the child…”_

_“I don’t need you to father…”_  

_“I don’t need you…”_

_“_ **_I don’t need you_ ** _…”_

Why is Kylo even angered by this? Just a moment ago, the thing he wanted least in the galaxy was to be used again and here is confirmation that Hux doesn’t _want_ to use him - doesn’t _need_ to use him.

For the first time, Kylo wonders if there’s a difference between being _needed_ and being _used_ \- being taken advantage of, being exploited and being integral to something.

His heart’s battling his mind, as it often does and has for most of his life - his mind insists that this is just another ploy, this is another trap, another person who wants to use him, wring him dry and leave him when the deed is done - but his heart tells him otherwise. His heart tells him Hux has no intention of abusing him, that to exploit him would even be… _below_ Hux.

Hux is too intellectual and too proud - he’d have a better strategy than just ‘use Kylo,’ as if Kylo were a blunt object to toss about and he’d be more likely to rely on his own tactical prowess than to rely on Kylo unless Kylo were some last resort. To abuse Kylo or Kylo’s powers just doesn’t seem to meld with the rest of what Kylo knows about Hux.

Moreover, his heart _aches_ to be needed by Hux. To be wanted.

To hear just the opposite burns him terribly and he wasn’t expecting it.

“What do you mean by that?” Kylo asks, trying desperately to keep the fury from his voice, but likely failing.

“... I mean I’d parent the child alone,” Hux answers, as if this matter were that plain, that elementary; as though he expected Kylo to have no objection to that at all, “I don’t need your help, Ren, even if you were willing to give it. You’re worse than a human infant anyway, so it’s not like you’d be of much service. If you don’t want to father the child, just donate your genes and leave me to it.”

There’s a maelstrom of hatred and sadness and fury and undefinable emotions swirling around behind Kylo’s eyes. He feels beaten down and incited all at once. He wants to punch Hux, to shout at Hux to leave, to never mention this again - to not even _think_ of it again. He wants to get closer to Hux too, though - he wants to touch Hux’s hair, Hux’s face, he wants reason to be gentle with Hux.

Saying any of that seems very dangerous, though.

Then, he means to tell Hux that he’d hate to see Hux with an undertaking so extreme all alone, but what comes out is, “you would not raise _my_ child.” (“alone,” goes unsaid because Kylo has no idea how to say it).

“It would be _my_ child as well, you cock,” Hux fires back, looking irate, “and there are a thousand reasons this is a good idea and while the number of reasons it’s a bad one is nothing to sneeze at, the good outweigh the bad by an enormous percentage. I’ve written out the pro’s and con’s already and the pro’s drastically outweigh even the hypothetical con’s alone.”

Shaking his head furiously, Kylo argues, “no. _No_ , Hux. This is _madness_. You’re not _stealing_ my genes, I’m not having _a child_ with _you_ and I’m fathering _no one_.”

Hardly a moment passes and then with his chest puffed out in pride and some sort of sigh that has the same effect as a slap, Hux switches to another screen on his holopad and says sharply, “fine. Fuck you too,” then turns on his heel to leave. 

… that doesn’t seem right to Kylo.

Hux is much too argumentative a person to just leave the issue at that and he’s never known Hux to be someone to admit defeat at all, nevermind so easily.

“What? That’s it?” Kylo wonders aloud.

Looking exasperated and partway insulted that Kylo is still engaging him, Hux answers long-sufferingly, as if he’s talking to a small child, “yes, Ren, that’s it.”

Kylo watches Hux tapping distractedly at his holopad, wondering what cue he missed, when and where he made a wrong turn.

“I have limited time to make this offer and time-sensitive as it is, I have to go now.”

If Kylo weren’t incited before, he is now.

The implication of what Hux has just said turns his stomach over and he pales, his neck is burning up, his fists clench together and his teeth grind.

He thinks he knows the answer to what he’s about to ask and he doesn’t know whether or not he should ask it at all for how much he hates what he knows the answer will be. 

“What? What do you mean?” Kylo interrogates, stepping closer to the doorway, “Do you – are you about to make this offer to someone else?”

“What, you think I’d trash an entirely genius plan because the first contender decided to be a complete knob?”

Inwardly, Kylo seethes and his chest goes cold - of course, Hux wouldn’t just accept a defeat like that. He should have known. He already _did_ know. He just hadn’t considered what the implications of knowing that _meant_.

“Your genes are superior and my first choice,” Hux continues, looking stern, “but I’d never _steal_ from you, Ren. I’m above that and I’m insulted that you’d even think such a thing.”

Shame now, too? Is there nothing Hux can fail to make him feel in surplus? To think he had just likened Hux to Snoke not a minute ago - but Hux is different and always has been. He should not have thought such a traitorous thing about Hux - Hux who freed him, Hux who saved him, Hux who _cared_.

Suddenly and all at once, Kylo feels more remorseful than he has since boyhood. He sees that he’s insulted Hux, inadvertently calling Hux a thief, likening him to Snoke without saying it in so many words - Hux is smart enough to be rightfully offended.

Kylo bites the inside of his cheek as Hux goes on to say, “no – you’ve insulted me, given me your answer plainly, clearly and repetitively, I accept it and now I’m going to Sol.”

Everything in Kylo’s body turns to ice and he glowers, hoping his disdain is palpable as it is painful. He’s - honestly - never felt something so hateful in his entire life. He could be sick at just the thought if he entertains it too long.

“You’re going to Sol with this?”

“Yes,” Hux answers clinically, frankly, “ _Now_ , if you please. You all are landing on Genthal in less than two hours, there’s planning to be done.”

In a flash, Hux is turning away from him again and Kylo panics - he sees in his mind’s eye some blonde child with eyes like Hux’s, a child with a weaker connection to the Force than they _could_ have, a child that is Hux’s and not his in any form whatsoever and it feels so intensely _wrong_ , he can’t control the volume of his objection.

He shouts Hux’s name, not even meaning to - it just bursts out of him like blood spurting from a gaping wound and Hux twists around, fearful, shaken and looking beyond aggravated.

Holopad still in hand, Hux stands there with a cocked hip, his arms spread out in question as he shouts back, “ _what_!? What is it!?”

All Kylo can imagine is that imaginary child - swaddled, sitting in the lap of Emperor Hux, the Knight Sol Ren at his side and Kylo - Kylo, somewhere in the background, cast aside, unattached, not a part of the child, not a part of that life, not a part of that family, not a part of _Hux_.

“You are _not_ going to Sol with this,” Kylo orders, praying the trembling of his body doesn’t make itself apparent in his voice.

Kylo’s not considered how Hux would react to a command since Snoke’s demise.

When Snoke was still among them, Hux would follow orders, even if they were doled out by Kylo, because he’d prefer to swallow his pride than face whatever Snoke had planned. Now, though, Snoke is gone and there’s absolutely no guarantee that Hux will even take him seriously.

The seriousness doesn’t seem to have been a problem, though, as Hux appears to have taken him _quite_ seriously. Hux narrows his eyes and curls his upper lip in this look of disgust and rage Kylo’s not seen on him before. 

Kylo’s eyes flicker to Hux’s mouth and he sees the glint of Hux’s perfectly white teeth and takes note of Hux’s canines - they’re rather sharp and a bit long for an average person. 

That should not please or excite Kylo as much as it does. 

“ _I_ don’t take _orders_ from _you_ ,” Hux cuts with a grimace, “You want no part in this, I’m taking it to someone else. I’m not stopping for you, Ren.”

This all sounds too much like Snoke again and Kylo has to remember that this is not Snoke, that Hux is not handing him some ultimatum, but it still feels like that - it’s still upsetting, it’s still unsettling and Kylo hates it but what he hates - despises - no, _loathes_ \- what he _loathes_ more than the thought of Hux using him is the thought of Hux using Sol in _his_ rightful place.

“You _are not_ taking this to _Sol_!” Kylo repeats, hands shaking and knuckles turning white.

With a noise of disgust, Hux turns his eyes away, then his body and starts walking away again, yelling over his shoulder, “get fucked, Ren!”

Against his better judgement - really, entirely unthinkingly - Kylo stretches out his arm and Force-holds Hux, binding him and flying him back into the room. He hesitates to let Hux down, unsure of precisely how enraged Hux will be once his chest isn’t being crushed by the power of Kylo’s mind. He does let Hux down, though, no good excuse for having used such excessive force.

The moment Hux’s fitted boots touch the ground, he leans forward, holopad creaking in his violent grip, glaring dangerously and his tirade begins,“how _dare you_ use the Force on me! Whether you like it or not, _I’ve_ made a decision about _my_ life – I’m having a child, whether you want me to or not! You’re not even meant to be involved beyond donating some favorable genes – which you’ve declined to do anyway, so let me go to someone who _will_! Just because _you_ let your dreams die like dehydrated roaches on the ground in no way means I’m going to follow in your footsteps – _you_ do _not_ dictate what _I_ do and do not do, I don’t take _orders_ from you and, in fact, I won’t be taking orders from _anyone_ anymore – once the Commandant is good and dead, I will be in full control of the military. I _will_ be Emperor, I _will have_ my child and you will _piss off_!”

He imagines Hux alone - alone in his fine robes, in his grand halls, people from all walks of life under his rule and command, a child in his arms and even if Sol were there to father the child (a thing Kylo knows Sol would just adore so much it makes Kylo physically ill to consider) - even if Hux were surrounded by people, how alone he’d be.

He’d be alone.

In parenthood, in rule - Sol is possibly more compatible with Hux, it’s true, but he is not the type of companion Hux deserves. Sol is not quality enough for Hux. Kylo doesn’t know who ever could be, but Sol is definitely not.

It _does_ sound like Hux wants to use him for his genes - the same way Snoke once did, but it was never about a ‘dream,’ for Snoke. It wasn’t so sentimental in nature, it was never about the betterment of man, the security of a future or the possibility of building someone up to be greater than the two of them could ever be apart.

For Snoke, it was about Kylo being a tool with which to overturn a collapsing government and aid in constructing a new empire - the way it is for Hux, it’s about doing better than what was done by him, being better, building something better - with Kylo’s _help_.

Kylo isn’t being exploited - he’s being told he’s integral.

Even when Hux shouts, spitting like a crackling fire, teeth bared and hackles raised, he’s still a handsome man. And he’s still irritably tolerable. And Kylo cares.

He doesn’t want Hux to be alone and he wants to be important to Hux - he doesn’t want Sol taking that place next to Hux, looking over that child as Sol would, undoubtedly, love to do. He wants Hux to be safe, to have someone nearby that sincerely cares about him the way Kylo does.

It barely takes a second for Kylo to make his mind up.

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Hux agrees breathlessly, “Glad we’re all sorted. Good. I’m leaving now.”

Somehow, Kylo forgets that he’s not said any of that out loud and he’s confused when Hux turns to leave; he scrambles to interrupt Hux’s exit and stammers out, “no – I mean… I don’t mean that I’m fine with… I mean…”

Kylo’s a little wounded at how utterly _done_ Hux looks when he turns around. His energies speak to an eagerness to leave and dejection as well - Kylo finds he really doesn’t care for it - this disinterest, this poorly masked personal injury, this weakened aura. He doesn’t care for having been the cause of it either.

He glances down at his feet, then back up at Hux, trying his best to wear his heart on his sleeve. Trying his best to show Hux he’s being sincere.

It’s fascinating to watch Hux’s expression and aura change; the storm of his aura that was once like swarming locusts cools down into a tentative, cautious fog of curiosity. Hux’s face goes more lax and the done-ness, the exhaustion that was there before remains, but it’s not being shot at Kylo’s face like arrows anymore. Hux just seems… tired. Alone. Tired of being alone, maybe.

“I – I agree. To this. I meant ‘fine,’ as in, ‘fine, I will do this,’ not… don’t go to Sol. Don’t go to any of the other Knights for that matter,” Kylo pleads.

There’s a pause and then Hux asks, ridiculously, “are you seriously going to have a child with me out of spite?”

Kylo almost wants to laugh.

“You’re literally having a child to feed your megalomania. You’re hardly one to talk.”

They stare at each other for a long while and Kylo is caught off-guard at the deep sigh of defeat Hux makes, how his shoulders slouch and before Hux even opens his mouth, Kylo knows somehow that Hux is… retracting his offer.

And Kylo… he’s inexplicably, irrationally and deeply _hurt_.

Softly, weakly, and regretfully, Hux informs him, “nevermind, Ren. I… I didn’t think I’d care this much about it, but your… your consent matters. It matters to me that you don’t want any part in this. I have no wish to coerce you into anything. This child might be a type of project of genius, but I plan to do all that my forefathers couldn’t - I don’t want to bring someone into the galaxy with you and have you… so unattached and uninterested. I don’t mean to force you or coerce you - going to Sol is not a personal attack on you, Ren. I just want… I want this. So, please let me leave now.”

Kylo’s heart thuds against his ribs - in just a moment of earnestness, Hux has dispelled Kylo’s worst fears and he doesn’t want Hux to leave, doesn’t want Hux to take it all back or wish he’d never said anything at all. 

Stepping closer, closer than is wise to, Kylo gestures vaguely and says, “I consent, Hux. I… you’re right. A child borne between the two of us would be… truly a power to be reckoned with. I know you think these things through – I actually think it might be _physically impossible_ for you to do something _impulsive_ , so… I know you’ve probably obsessed over this idea for longer than you’re letting on. I don’t want you to have a child with another Knight of Ren, but I… it’s not out of spite. It doesn’t sit well with me. I was assigned to you, Hux. I can’t promise to protect you from whatever another Knight might do if you open that door to them and… I suppose what I’m saying is that I’m the only one in this galaxy I trust to have a child with you. No one else will do – I… hold you in high respect, despite myself. You deserve more than what they can offer.”

Technically, Kylo wasn’t ‘assigned,’ to Hux anymore, but he hopes Hux ignores that fact. Everything he’s said is true, it’s just not… it’s not the _whole_ truth.

He can’t speak of his admiration for Hux, though, he can’t say how much he cares because he isn’t sure what it means, why it’s there, why it’s so powerful or how it can override his sensibility so thoroughly.

Warily, Hux scans Kylo, probably looking for tells that Kylo knows won’t show, because he doesn’t feel doubtful. He doesn’t feel forced. He only exudes sincerity and what he hopes Hux recognizes as encouragement, even gladness, shy as it may be.

“You can trace your genes back to your grandfather if you so desire,” Hux offers conversationally, “You can give the child all the power in your lineage. I’ve read enough to know how to help the child when their Force-sensitivity begins to show –"

“You won’t father this child alone, Hux,” Kylo stops him, wanting his position on the matter put on record and acknowledged, “I will be there. Beside you. I will help where I can… if you’ll let me.” 

Bizarrely, in the tense air that follows Kylo’s proclamation, Hux half-jokes, “well, I hope it goes without saying that the child will be given my temperament and intellect.”

Wanting to smirk, but blushing instead, Kylo adds, “and hair color.”

To Kylo’s fascination, Hux frowns, confused and looking disturbingly attractive with that pouted lip. Hux tilts his head slightly and hesitantly asks, “…why my hair color?”

“It’s iconic,” Kylo lies easily, gesticulating towards Hux’s head, “It’s such a genetic abnormality now, so rare – it’s a trademark. The child needs your hair color.”

At the way Hux nods in agreement - the way Hux’s aura dampens with disappointment, Kylo stops in his tracks. He didn’t realize that Hux might prefer the truth over that more clinical lie. He thought Hux was less inclined toward emotional entanglement, but clearly, he’s hurt at the thought of his red hair being some sort of trademark - the same way Kylo was hurt at his Force-sensitivity being used as one.

A bit nervous again, Kylo adds reassuringly, “... it’s beautiful too. Like a supernova. I’d like the child to have your hair color.”

It’s incredible to watch Hux’s face redden the way it does, how his eyes go wide and round, how flustered and flattered he is and so easily as well - it’s almost empowering. Kylo has to listen closely to hear Hux mutter back, “well, so long as the child might have your lips and eyes, I won’t argue with you about the hair.”

_My lips?_ Kylo wonders, touching at them idly for a moment, feeling his face get warm, _Has he wondered at my mouth often?_

Kylo decides to shelve that thought for a later time and instead says, “…fine, but your eye color. We can use my eye shape, but… I want them to have your eye color.”

They stand a few feet from one another, slowly digesting what they’d just agreed and admitted to. It all felt very heavy and it seemed like they could just gaze at each other in wonderment for all eternity if neither of them walked away.

That’s a dangerous feeling, though and so Kylo clears his throat and asks, “where will I find this cloning device?” 

“Oh,” Hux says barely audibly, fumbling for a screen tab lost on his holopad, “Uhm – there are buildings in the third quadrant close to your landing spot that used to manufacture them. I can direct you, through your comm, once you land, if that makes things easier…” 

“Yes, do that,” Kylo agrees, abruptly unable to maintain eye-contact any longer, “That will do – that’s fine.”

When there’s only silence as an answer, Kylo looks up and Hux is… smiling.

It’s beautiful.

He’s never seen something so _pretty_ on a human before - he’s seen all manner of mountain ranges, holy structures, oceans deep and wide, meadows and gardens of impossibly bright, vibrant colors, forests, tundras and flowers that only blossom in the night. He has seen quasars, the sparkling dust of ringed planets, red and blue, harvest and blood moons, he’s seen black holes, he’s wandered through the halls of timeless art, he’s seen the Light and the Dark that the powers of the Force have to offer.

Yet, he’s never seen something quite like General Hux smiling in bashful gladness.

He’s in awe of it.

It’s branded in his mind from that moment on - he wants Hux to look like that more and more for him than anyone else. In fact, he doesn’t really want Hux to smile at anyone else ever again, if the man ever has smiled before. Which could be called into question.

So, Kylo abandons his hunt for Skywalker when he lands on Ganthel. He looks through his assigned quadrant instead until he finds all he needs to find.

He’s not sure what it is that’s more important at first - for a long time, it felt like there was absolutely nothing more important than his vengeance, but Hux has proven him wrong with a simple request to gather materials. Hux never asked for him to focus on that over Skywalker, Kylo did that on his own. 

He left his vindictiveness resting because seated before him, smiling prettily and like nothing the natural galaxy could ever reconstruct, was an embodiment of hope.

Hope for something other than rage and anguish, something other than all the resentment and fear he has let run rampant.

When he returns to the ship, Hux is pleased with him and he cares to keep it that way.


	4. Chapter 4

Things from there on are generally manageable, Kylo keeps what he deems a safe distance, but helps wherever he can and things run smoothly - of course, until Hux asks that all the Knights aid him in killing the Commandant about as soon as they return from Genthal. 

Hux asks Sol first.

Kylo burns when he learns of it.

Hux asks Sol something along the lines of, ‘if I asked it of you all to help me in dispatching my father, do you think everyone would be… amenable?’

Replying positively, Sol telepathically alerted all the Knights that Hux would soon be asking them all individually for their services, their aid and accompaniment and that, because their lives were owed to Hux for freeing them from Snoke, they were all to agree without hesitation.

The Knights did not need that incentive, though - they were all too glad to try and repay Hux for his unlikely and distinguished service to them.

No one mentions that it sounds like an order and that Kylo is the only one that gives orders.

Unwilling to upset the balance between the Knights when Hux has only just asked for their help, Kylo bites his tongue.

They all meet again to formulate a plan, as they did before confronting Snoke - though this time in a proper conference room on _the Finalizer_.

Kylo keeps his head down a lot through the planning process. He nods and mumbles affirmatives - not even listening to what he is agreeing to. At this point, he is willing to douse himself in oil and light a match if it will keep Hux from looking too astutely into his eyes.

He still doesn’t know why his hands twitch around Hux, as though they are too empty of something and he doesn’t know why his lips part just barely when Hux is looking his way - as though his lips know something he doesn’t.

Something about Hux.

He doesn’t speak much and Hux asks after him, but he waves away Hux’s concerns, which upsets the General - Corr tells him as much when they’ve parted ways to prepare for the assassination of the Commandant.

Corr walks beside Kylo and speaks privately into his mind, _the General was watching you, Kylo Ren. I would think he was offended that you did not engage him more, were it not for the lack of ill-will in his expression. He was not angry with you or offended by your cold shoulder - he seemed a little wounded, really. Why have you avoided him so?_

Kylo drops his eyes to the ground and tells Corr, _I am unstable right now. He is the last person I want to hurt. I am worried that in my state, as I am, I may offend him if I speak or move at all - I am unsure of myself and that means I am too dangerous. I am sorry to have disappointed him, though._

_I see. I am sure if you apologize to him, when you’ve readied yourself for such an interaction, he will be quite willing to forgive you. He seems the patient type._

Kylo smiles, thinking of all the consoles he’s destroyed in his time on _the_ _Finalizer_ , he remembers all the Officers and personnel he’s harassed and daunted - sometimes even maimed.

He remembers how he drove Hux to a precipice most men would have fallen off of in a rage, but he has never acted out in anger towards Kylo. He has only ever treated Kylo with as much respect as he could possibly gather for him - which sometimes was a miraculous feat in and of itself that he dredged up any respect at all.

Hux is such a novel man.

He is more patient than any of the Knights will ever get to know.

_Yes_ , Kylo agrees, _he certainly is._

When they drop down on the Core planet that the Commandant’s safe-house is, it’s a dark, storming night. Hux insists that they split up - “divide and conquer,” he says - he plans out what Knights should attack which guards, what areas of the house should be watched after and which exits ought to be blocked and how their specific sets of personal skills could help him along his way to the top of the building where his father would be cowering.

It’s during this delegating of tasks that Hux tells Kylo he’d prefer Kylo stay on the ground, on watch with Sol - Sol, specializing in healing and being second in command on the totem pole of power within the Knights of Ren was to stay away from the building. In the event that anyone was injured, Hux wanted Sol to act as their primary healer and didn’t want Sol put in harm’s way for that tactical reason alone. He then asks Kylo to stay down as well.

Frowning, Kylo pushes the issue, wants to fight Hux on it more, but Hux looks at him very sincerely, not looking at all like he’s trying to offend Kylo or underestimate him.

“I want you at the ready - you are my right-hand man, Ren. If I need help - urgent help - I want you to be available. If I find myself separated from the others and need you, I can’t risk you being tied up fighting anyone else. I’d prefer you be on the ground, unengaged until I absolutely need you. Is that alright?”

Kylo hardly believes he hears the question right at first - no one has ever given him a choice before. And Hux just looks at him like it’s the most natural thing in the galaxy, to admit that he, even unconsciously, relies on Kylo as his closest ally, that even while Kylo is many stories below, that Hux considers him just as much there as if he were there at Hux’s right-side - that Hux believes that in his most urgent hour of need, Kylo will be the one to answer his appeal.

That in Hux’s most urgent hour of need, he _wants_ Kylo to be the one to answer.

As much as Kylo wants to argue his points further, he can’t. Hux’s faith in him is ill-advised, undeserved, but Kylo wants to rise to the occasion. He wants to _co_ -command. Truly. And he thinks that, if he is a co-commander, that will sometimes mean trusting that his partner’s plan is well thought out and to be heeded. So, instead of making a whiny ass of himself, he sighs and nods.

It’s worth it for the way Hux’s eyes light up.

“Good man,” Hux compliments, making Kylo’s heart thud hard, “I’ll comm you, if I need your aid and if you need mine, you know how to comm me.”

Kylo doesn’t mean to snort in response - it’s second-nature to be dismissive and sarcastic around Hux, though. It’s Kylo’s default setting with Hux. Thankfully, Hux doesn’t acknowledge it as an insult - rather, he shrugs, as if to say, ‘I don’t expect you to ever need me, I’m only securing our agreement to be at each other’s calls.’

_If I were ever in such peril that I needed the help of another - someone with less ability than myself, I would never call for you. I would never put you in harm’s way again. I will die before I draw you into danger so lethal that I could not extinguish it alone. Not again. Never again._

He wants to say these things, but he feels how his chest constricts, how his face heats up, how his heart doubles speed and he knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He won’t. He doesn’t.

“Very well, General,” Kylo agrees, instead, “I… thank you.”

“Of course, Ren,” Hux answers easily, “I’ll see you gentlemen when I’m the new Commandant.”

“Before the hour is up then?” Kylo asks, smirking, “Good, because I’m exhausted.”

At Kylo’s encouragement, Hux smiles, runs a hand over his drenched, dark red hair and mumbles, “how dare you, Ren. I’ll be Commandant within the half." 

At that, Kylo laughs, he sees the way something tense and unsure melts away from Hux’s shoulders and brow - he realizes then what effect his avoidance has had on Hux, what expression Corr had talked to him about.

He smiles, feeling uncomfortably warm and tells Hux, “probably, yes.”

“ _Never_ bet against me,” Hux advises with a wink - then he’s turning toward the not-so-safe-safe-house with the other Knights in tow.

When Kylo and Sol are truly alone, Kylo feels the pressure build between them until it bursts and he turns on Sol, livid.

“You’ve ignored my direct orders.”

“He didn’t even say a parting word to me,” Sol mutters, highly offended and mostly to himself.

He glares at Kylo, shifting his eyes from where Hux’s silhouette has disappeared around a corner, visibly yearning for Hux and Hux’s approval that has been so willingly handed over to Kylo.

Sol’s hand stays near the hilt of his saber and his eyes narrow dangerously.

“You don’t deserve him.”

“I never made any claim he was mine to have, nor have I ever claimed to be deserving of him,” Kylo retorts, his own hand sneaking toward his saber, “Even so, you are a poor judge to make that decision and your opinion on the matter means very little to me.”

“I have read your auras while he has been in your presence - I have seen your unyielding _lust_ ,” Sol accuses with a sneer.

Blushing darkly, Kylo wonders if _that_ is indeed what he’s been feeling. Is it _lust_? That would explain why his mind was unable to find the answer during meditation, fumbling in the darkness of logic, reason and intuition - lust is of the physical self, of the body, not necessarily the mind. If it is lust he is feeling for Hux, that might explain a lot.

“I’ve heard him hum as he works,” Sol interrupts Kylo’s thoughts, “Do you ever wonder what variation of that noise he might make if you gave yourself over to your base, animal desires and laid your hands on him?”

Shamefully, Kylo feels a twinge of something below his beltline at the suggestion of his hands anywhere on Hux’s body and he shakes his head - he honestly hasn’t imagined Hux in any compromising position or deviant behavior.

He never really wondered that he might ever want such a thing from someone.

He never has before.

He realizes he might now.

“Do you wonder if he’ll hum for you and your hands? Moan for you? Scream? Sing?” Sol interrogates with increasing frustration, “You don’t know the ways of the body - of pleasures. You are unfit to partner with him.”

_Sing?_ Kylo wonders; what a curious thing to call a cry of passion. At that, his mind produces a scrambled image of Hux with his head thrown back, his eyes shut, brows turned in and lips open on some note that might be mistaken for musical in nature. He imagines how scratched, how high-pitched and breathy it might become - then how low, possibly how deep a moan Hux might make.

He shakes his head again, trying to clear away the thoughts he worries impedes on Hux’s privacy. He is, more often than not, flattered to be likened to beasts and monsters - things of legend, lore and fantastical fear. He does not want to predate on Hux, though.

He cares about Hux.

He never wants to be predatory when it comes to Hux - he wants Hux to trust him and Hux has never given him permission to think of him in such a way. Hux has never so much as indicated that he’d tolerate being _imagined_ as touched. And certainly not by Kylo’s hands. Imagined or not.

“I’ve never - why are you so intent on believing I am in some scandalous, secret relationship with him?”

“Because I see the way you look at him!” Sol shouts, the pounding rain making him just a touch difficult to hear, “I see how your auras shift when he stands close, I can tell when you’re thinking about him by just the change in your eyes! You have kept your distance as of late and that is good of you, but you do not intend to stay far from him forever as you should - he is steadfast, true, he is lethality and strength, wisdom and intuition - he is more than you have ever deserved!”

“I’ve heard enough!” Kylo yells back, shoulders rounding up by his ears, “You are _second_ to me, Sol Ren - you are second to me in power, in place and in General Hux’s eyes. You are _second_ and you will _remain_ second to me. My intentions toward him do not need your validation or approval - whether they are innocent in nature or otherwise. I answer to no one now, Sol. I am free again and if you think you can ever influence me with tactics of fear than you have forgotten your _place_.”

Just as he finishes his tirade, he lights his saber and the crimson glows starkly against the blue and black darkness of the night and storm. Lightning flashes as Sol ignites his own saber and Kylo looks into Sol’s eyes, warning him, “you should stop while you’re ahead, Sol. I told you I will not hesitate to kill you and I mean that. If you raise your weapon against me, there will be no friendly sparring here. You will not walk away.”

“I _will_ ,” Sol promises, his grip looking uneven on his hilt, his eyes speaking to some unhinged obsession, “I _will_ walk away. And I will have the General. You have hoarded and neglected him all these years - I will have him and give him all you have neglected to - he will forget you and then _I_ will be at his right side. Then _I_ will be the one he calls to when he is in need.”

“He should never _be_ in need!” Kylo bellows, “Do you see? Do you see that this is where we differ, Sol? You think I would truly call him down here when there is danger afoot? If I were ever unable to vanquish some _one_ or some _thing_? You will heal him, Sol - you fail to see how that is a grievous shortcoming on your part. You can _heal_ him, but _I_ can keep him ever needing to heal in the first place. I was assigned to General Hux because I am above you, Sol, I am more powerful, more fit for duty, more ready to kill and die for him - with me at his side, he will not be hurt again. I would see to it that he would never be hurt again. I vow to protect and serve him - not because he is lethal and steadfast and wise and intuitive - but because I _care_ for him. I want what is best for him and _you_?”

Kylo raises his arms, his saber ready, “ _you_ are not what is best for General Hux.”

Enraged, Sol charges at Kylo and their sabers clash violently, vicious and unforgiving battle ensuing with a start - they do not speak again. Sol’s moves are frantic, unorganized, but Kylo is level-headed, he knows he is right, he knows he wants goodness to find Hux and remain a lengthy visitor. He wants Hux to stay far from spilled blood and unkind hands. He wants Hux to have his throne, his crown, his Empire and, if Hux is a man capable of it, he wants Hux to have happiness.

Maybe twenty minutes into heated swordplay, Kylo is able to disarm Sol, sending his saber flying far off and before Sol can reach a hand out to pull it back through the air, to his palm, Kylo raises his own hand and lifts Sol off the ground slowly, squeezing his windpipes closed.

There is some noise not far from them, then - it is Hux, they both know it at once. And they know too that one of them must be dead before Hux returns.

Panicked, Sol extends his arm and hand, sending a scrambling jolt of pain into Kylo’s mind.

Kylo’s grip is lost as soon as the wave of Sol’s attack strikes - there’s a piercing so shrill that is drilling through his mind, he can’t so much as open his eyes. He grips both sides of his head, abandoning his saber on the ground, trying to hold his skull together because it genuinely feels like Sol’s attack is forcing his cranium to break off like islands.

“General! Your return is timely! Kylo Ren was -”

Kylo looks up just in time to watch a relatively small wound open at the center of Sol’s forehead and he sees brain matter spray behind Sol’s empty eyes before his body falls to the ground. 

Turning to face his savior, Kylo finds Hux standing with a bit of blood on the cuffs of his uniform sleeves and his blaster pistol smoking. Without another thought, it seems, Hux attaches the pistol to the holster on his hip and then he rushes over to Kylo - it doesn’t even occur to Kylo that he’s collapsed from the pain until Hux is kneeling over him, pulling Kylo’s head into his lap. 

His breaths are shallow, hurried and painful, but he’s glad to see Hux unharmed.

“What happened to you? Do you need a telepathic healer?”

_You didn’t even know_ , Kylo thinks, his heart starting to race again, _You could not have been sure Sol was in the wrong - there was no way for you to know if I had attacked first or if he had some viable reason to kill me and yet you saved me again. You chose me. You chose me, no matter what the truth might have been. You keep caring, you keep_ ** _choosing_** _me -_ ** _why_** _do you keep choosing me?_

Vocalizing any of that is entirely impossible. The inside of his head still feels like screeching, sharp and unintelligible radio waves collapsing on each other.

He hears Hux call for the med-bay to ready nurses and healers for their arrival, that Kylo is hurt and needs immediate aid - to send a rescue pod so they can begin healing him as soon as is humanly possible and to refer to him as Commandant.

Hearing Hux’s voice is calming and knowing Sol is dead is a shameful comfort. He wants Hux’s undivided attention. He’d have never admitted it before, because Sol was his brother. Sol was a brother Knight and he’s still glad Sol is dead because it means Hux is safe and still in need of him. It means Hux won’t be taken away from him - a fear he didn’t realize he had until that fear was shot between the eyes. 

He remembers Sol’s wording - his perverse thoughts on Hux, how he wanted Hux to _sing_. And entertaining that daydream is fine and well - he can very nearly imagine what Hux might sound like in pleasure and the very idea that he might play the part of Hux’s pleasure in the theater of his mind gets him hot and bothered in a very agreeable way, though he’s ashamed of that as well.

He is envious, then - very suddenly - that Sol has heard Hux hum, but Kylo doesn’t believe he ever has.

“Can you sing?” Kylo asks - both a sincere inquiry and a request.

Hux’s hand is in his hair, combing it away from his feverish face, trying to comfort him - Kylo can’t decide what’s more unnerving - that Hux is trying to comfort him at all, or that it’s working.

Hux’s brow furrows in confusion, as though he is unsure of the point of the question, but he answers softly, “I can carry a tune, yes.”

The thought is so thrilling, Kylo wants to smile. He can’t - he’s in too much pain, he’s still seething and writhing in time with the pulsations of ragged torture scraping the inside walls of his mind, but he wishes he could smile. He’s excited. He’s hopeful.

“Will you? Sing for me?”

“Are you being serious?”

“I need a distraction from the pain,” Kylo begs, grasping at the first legitimate sounding excuse he could conjure.

He hears Hux comm the med-bay again, he hears Hux argue with them about their location, that they need to hurry and he takes the same irate tone with them that he did with the pilot on Starkiller. It’s humbling and flattering and Kylo is weak.

Hux stares down at him then and offers to pull out his holopad and play a song from it, if that will help calm him. Kylo insists on it being Hux - he keeps coming up with excuses, all he really wants is something to hold onto, something Sol never had and never can have, something that only Kylo will ever know. Something only Kylo can ever have. 

“Please,” Kylo pleads.

With a heavy, shaky sigh, Hux looks Heavenward and asks, “will you at least shut your eyes? My pride doesn’t need any wounding tonight.”

Beyond eager for what a gift this will be, Kylo quickly shuts his eyes and, really, it’s a relief to shut them against the torrential downpour. He’s sorry Hux is stuck in the mud with him, but he is so glad to not be alone and more importantly, he’s glad to be in Hux’s particular company.

There’s a pause and Kylo worries that Hux will retract his consent, but then he hears Hux clear his throat and his singing voice comes gently, just above the sound of the water falling into the puddles around them, “ _if I had wings, like Noah’s dove… I’d fly the river, to the one I love…  fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well. Well, I had a man who was long and tall… and moved his body, like a cannon ball… fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well…_ ”

The tortuous noise on the inside of Kylo’s head dims like embers to what was once a roaring flame - Hux’s voice is like a cool balm and his steady hand pets over Kylo’s forehead again - it is more soothing than Kylo knows how to describe. He wonders if Hux’s voice has true healing properties, or if his growing fondness for Hux is what enables him to brush away the remnants of Sol’s assault.

He may never know.

He doesn’t mind.

For once in his life, he genuinely doesn’t mind knowing.

Hux sings, “ _I remember one evening, in the pouring rain… and in my heart, was an aching pain… fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well... Muddy river, runs muddy and wild… can’t give a bloody, for my unborn child… fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well._ ”

Breathing becomes gradually easier and his skull doesn’t feel like tectonic plates splintering apart anymore and Kylo finds himself exhausted beyond embarrassment, beyond resentment or pain. Despite Sol’s betrayal and despite having every reason to feel absolutely horrible in every way, Kylo feels peaceful.

Hux sings for him. Hux trusts him. Hux cares about him.

And he cares about Hux. So much more than he knew he could care about anyone. He cares.

“ _Show us a bird, flyin’ high above… life ain’t worth living, without the one you love… fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well. Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well..._ ”

Kylo is rather sad when the song is over, wondering if he acts as if he’s still in excruciating pain, if Hux will sing more for him. His heart stutters, stumbles and he wants to smile, but he doesn’t know that he manages to. He keeps his eyes shut and says, “beautiful.”

_Your voice is beautiful, your mind is beautiful, what I feel for you is beautiful, how you force me to feel for you is beautiful._

Kylo hears Hux chuckle disbelievingly and then mumble, “you really do have a head injury.”

_Unfair - my mind is very literally in your hands, you can see it’s in fine condition._

“You have a beautiful voice, Hux. Truly. Thank you. Will there be more?”

Sincerity has proven very useful in handling Hux in the recent past. Hux very apparently appreciates candidness and Kylo hopes his honesty eases away the embarrassed anxiety Hux is emanating. He wishes he could convince Hux he has nothing to be embarrassed or anxious about. He thinks he ought to get hurt more often, in fact, if Hux will sing to him for his wounds.

To Kylo’s immense comfort and surprise, Hux begins to sing again. He sings another sweet, soft lullaby and by the time their rescue pod arrives to retrieve Hux and the Knights, Kylo’s mind is really quite clear. The pain has become minute - sharp, but not overwhelming anymore and Hux doesn’t look at Sol’s body during the entire trip back to the ship.

There’s no sense of remorse in Hux’s aura - there never is, really - but what’s more interesting is the lack of curiosity.

While Kylo is lying back, allowing a First Order healer to stick him with an I.V, Hux is standing beside his stretcher, watching the nurses work.

Hux is highly critical of them the entire time, his eyes narrow and calculating; he mumbles under his breath every now and again that he’d not use that particular type of needle, and they’ve not sterilized that instrument enough and why is it taking them so long and Hux knows he could do this faster and better than them and finding a vein is really not that hard and do people not understand what a thirty degree angle is and where exactly did they get their schooling?

It’s frustratingly endearing.

To calm Hux’s irritation and distract him from the perceived incompetence of his nursing crew, Kylo meets Hux’s stare and asks, “what of Sol?”

“Sol?” Hux asks quizzically, “What of him?”

“Are you… you are unconcerned about what I may have done to provoke him?”

Laughing, Hux rolls his eyes and tells him, “Ren, you are easily one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met. There are infinite possibilities when it comes to what you may have done or said to provoke Sol. Whatever reason he had to dislike you means little. He was going to kill you and I know he was second in command. I know what he wanted.”

_Power_ , Kylo guesses, _You think he wanted my power. He didn’t. He wanted you._

“You have secured my seat as Commandant of the First Order and you’ve promised me a throne, partnership and a child - all promises I intend to hold you to,” Hux adds with a friendly smile that makes breathing difficult, “For the record, I will always take your side - whether you are right or wrong, I will not allow anyone to bring harm to you if I can help it, whether your attacker was justified or otherwise.”

Hux’s brow quirks with the side of his lips and his cupid’s bow has never been more distracting than when he smirks like they’re ‘in,’ on something together, explaining further, “Ren, piss on anyone’s boot and tell them it’s raining and I will go to my grave insisting you were telling the truth. I’m on your side now, no matter the circumstances. Sol is dead and it would take a sincere effort on my part to care.”

Kylo feels something warm and blooming fill up his chest and climb up his throat - like the sensation of an involuntary noise of pain, he thinks he may say something his body knows to say that his mind doesn’t. He thinks he may say something - something dangerous and unscripted, but then Hux adds again, “and I hope you know by now that I will not allow anyone to usurp you.”

_Nor I you_ , Kylo thinks, but doesn’t say, because opening his mouth seems like a dangerous business lately.

He waits a while to respond because of that - because of the sense that he may say something that could very well get _him_ killed.

“Does that make me co-Commandant?” he jokes - he’s thrilled to see Hux chuckle and shake his head.

“You _wish_ , Ren. You can be co-Commandant when I decide ‘pandemonium and hysterical chaos,’ is the most reasonable, tactical approach to commanding armies. Believe me, you’ll be my first reference.” 

“As I should be,” Kylo jokes back, relishing in Hux’s good humor.

Hux's good humor carries into the weeks - he seems to relish in creating Desda, writing up their DNA and inadvertently complimenting Kylo every other step of the way. Hux likely has no idea what his praise does to Kylo's blood pressure, but even if Hux did know, he'd not ask Hux to stop. Hux even calls him 'emotionally intellectual.' Kylo doesn't entirely know what it means, how far that definition can be stretched or what it can be most likened to, but he knows he's flattered by it. Deeply. That he holds any high seat in the college of Hux's mind is deeply flattering.

The Knights do complicate things, though, for Kylo and Hux's good favor and humor can do little to ease that stress.

None of them seem to approve or condone what transpired between Sol and Kylo. No one but Hux, actually, seems to validate Kylo's death sentence for Sol and it creates tension between them all. That's why, when they are all meditating together and Kylo's link of the meditative chain is broken by Hux coming into his quarters unannounced, all the other Knights seem murderous - not with Hux, but with Kylo. He doesn't even understand why. He can hardly help it if Hux comes for him in the midst of meditation, he can't control when or for what either. He can't control Hux and he's not sure what his subordinates expect of him.

He could, hypothetically, send Hux away, but that _isn't_ an option.

He never would. Not now. Not after everything that's happened - and all that's to come.

So, instead of turning Hux away and shouting at him to leave, Kylo turns where he sits and looks to Hux, anxiety rising with the ebb and flow of bother emanating from the other Knights. He's even more alarmed by how animated Hux's expression is.

"Is something wrong?"

“Not at all!” Hux exclaims, his face reddish and eyes wide, “It’s begun! You must come see!”

With no warning at all to the others, Kylo ups and follows Hux to the Gestation Chamber (as Hux _insisted_ on calling it) and when he does, he's bombarded with telepathic annoyances - each and every Knight questioning what it is he thinks he's doing, where he's going, when he'll be back and why the search for Skywalker is not taking precedence as it so clearly should. They all respect Hux, but they seem too to believe that their debt is repaid.

The General helped to free them from Snoke, and they, in turn, freed him from his own father.

They don't understand what a child could mean between the two, they don't understand what Kylo is doing - not that he's explained himself to them. They only know because they're all telepathic and have seen his innermost thoughts and feelings while in meditative states. They know what he's up to, but not why. Even if they did know why, he doubts they would understand.

Perhaps they are just not 'emotionally intellectual,' enough to understand.

Either way, Kylo doesn't answer them other than telling them he owes them nothing, much less explanations for endeavors they've no part in, and if they're so hellbent on questioning his every move, they should take a page out of Sol's book.

The chatter in his head does (thankfully) die out when he reaches the chamber, but when he gets there, he's not entirely sure what he's looking at.

On the side of the artificial womb, there's a type of fungus or something. Maybe a mold? It's barely visible to the plain eye and he has no idea what it _means_. 

He remembers Hux's wording then, how he had said, 'it's begun,' when he came barreling into Kylo's time with the Knights and he scowls, heat rising up into his head faster than he can control it. 

He is sure to endure backlash from the Knights for having run off and he'll have nothing of true significance to show for it. He flaunted his authority, threatened their lives for questioning him and for what? For this - mold, thing? It's not _anything_ yet. _Nothing_ has begun. 

“That’s it?” Kylo has to ask.

“That’s _them_ , yes,” Hux corrects, beaming as if he hadn't just emasculated Kylo and made a fool of him in front of his underlings for what amounts to a mold growth, “They’re forming beautifully. The embryogenesis has begun. The next twelve standard weeks will be the most dangerous for them. We must take special care to see to their – where are you going?”

“That is a ball of cells,” Kylo declares drily, turning to leave, “That is not a ‘them,’ yet.”

Even with his back turned, Kylo can feel Hux's displeasure when he says back, “I thought you’d be excited…”

“You forget our arrangement, then, Hux.”

As soon as the words are out, Kylo hates them. They're not what he means, but he's frustrated and he's frightened. He doesn't understand what he feels for Hux, he doesn't understand why Hux has chosen to put his faith in their partnership, he doesn't understand why Hux seems so adamant that all of these things like Snoke's demise and Sol's murder and this mold that's barely a thing to hold onto at all are _good_ things and not tentative-at-best.

Kylo knows he's being cold and he can't stop it. He's just _angry_ \- he's angry and he doesn't know why. He's angry that Hux is not as scared as he is and he winds up lashing out.

And he regrets it as he's doing it.

“Don’t mistake my tolerance for… _excitement_. I still believe this to be a bad idea, but I wasn’t going to let you make that rash, bad decision alone or with someone who would let you fail or ensure your failure. I’m not here against my will, but that doesn’t mean I am excited to see an inkling of a chance of this maybe working. Next that you alert me of a development, make it worth my time.”

There is a cool air that fills the room and Kylo almost feels like it was inappropriate of him to be so harsh to Hux in front of the mold-that-might-become-Desda. That would be silly, though. It's a mold, it's just a minuscule ball of cells on the lining of an imitation womb. It can't hear him. It can't judge him. It's not a thing yet. A person. It's just - it's nothing. 

No matter the situation, he can tell he's wounded Hux when he hears how eerily smooth Hux's voice is when he replies, “right. Of course. Sorry to have inconvenienced you, then. It won’t happen again.”

To Kylo, that sounds like a threat and he gets the feeling it absolutely is one. 

He opens his mouth, almost ready to apologize, but he thinks he's about as ready to apologize as he is ready to admit he's having _feelings_ about Hux. So he shuts his mouth again.

Everything seems so unstable, like reality itself is crumbling apart. It's like being back on Starkiller - everything is icy, but hot, snowy and fiery, exploding and imploding and he's falling, but not falling.

Over some enormous precipice, Hux is holding onto him with a gloved, clinical hand while he bleeds, hanging like a thread and wondering what the Hells his own name even means, all because Hux is the one saying it in the _way_ he's saying it.

His mind feels unsuitable. For himself, for the Knights and certainly for Hux.

That's why he leaves, knowing he's offended Hux and knowing he will have to make up for it somehow. He doesn't know how yet, but he will. He must.

He must give all he is and has to Hux and what may be a person he's bringing into the galaxy, or he must leave Hux to do what Hux has promised to do alone despite his promises. He owes Hux that much. To stay and be fully present or to go and stay far away.

He's promised to stay, but he doesn't know what it will mean to his sanity if he does.

It used to be interesting that he cares - Kylo was fascinated by his own inclinations toward Hux, he wanted to watch it grow and see what form it took. But he cares too much now - it's too much, too much and too unfamiliar and now it's frightening, now it's aggravating, now it's damning and worrisome and more important than _Skywalker_ and when did _that_ happen?

With little else, and at the same time, too much to do, Kylo does not return to the meditation group. He goes to a separate, unused chamber with no viewport. He does this purposefully, so that when the doors slide shut, he's encased in darkness and he takes this time to meditate alone. To delve into himself and find in him the answers he knows he already has, deep down. The answers will be there. The Force will guide him through himself. He is one with the Force and the Force is with him - it always has been, he always has been. He just needs to _focus_.

It takes Kylo approximately one hour of deep introspection to figure out his want for Hux is entirely self-serving, all-consuming and irreversible. 

It takes Kylo perhaps a little less than a week to figure out he wants this baby with Hux. He wants the baby. Not because he isn't fearful of the things to come still - he is. He still fears that this plan is ill-conceived, but he wants Hux to have what he wants. He knows, in the deepest, even the most insecure parts of himself, he knows Hux is not using him. Hux has made him integral to something, Hux has deemed him significant and invested emotion and time into him. 

All that's left to do is figure out what to do with that information. He wants Hux to have whatever it is he desires and if Kylo can provide it, he wants to. Hells, he already is. But should he stay?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know if he makes for a good partner. He probably doesn't. He killed his second in command less than a standard month ago - he's never been what others describe as a 'team player.' 

He doesn't feel whatever glee it is that Hux is experiencing. He feels dread and anxiety and the urge to run and to run far. He can't tell if that's more for his sake or Hux's, though. 

Perhaps it would be selfish to leave. Hux has made it abundantly clear that he can handle raising the child on his own and he doesn't need Kylo around. That stung when Hux told him that and it still does sting to consider that it's honest and true. 

The General is alone, though.

The first time Kylo saw Hux, he was just The General - standing in parade stance, face passive, looking porcelain and pristine in a way Kylo would come to recognize him as looking like every day. He was alone, though. 

When Kylo walks to the bridge, he sees General Hux, standing over his Officers, looking proud and strong and independent and competent and alone. Alone.

And when two more weeks pass and Kylo swallows his pride long enough to appreciate how desperately he needs to apologize to Hux for disrespecting him, he finds Hux in the Gestation Chamber, alone.

Maybe Hux likes it that way. Maybe Hux likes being alone, maybe he is built for solitude and introverted in a way Kylo can't really understand. Maybe Hux would be better off alone.

Kylo doesn't want to give Hux the chance to find out, though.


	5. Chapter 5

When Kylo makes his way back to the Gestation Chamber, he is overcome with the smell of floral scented cigarras and Hux's cologne. He sees a cot, Hux's cat nearby it and Hux atop it, staring down at a holopad. It's at his entrance that Hux picks his head up in question - based on his aura and energy shift, Kylo assumes that Hux was expecting Phasma and is perturbed to see him in the doorway instead of her. Hux masks his disappointment and disapproval well, all things considered.

That Hux is so displeased at seeing him shames Kylo and he ducks his head, fearful of what eye-contact might do.

He steps inside enough to approach the tank and he looks up, wondering at how large the mold growth may have become by now. 

What he sees is... well, it's certainly not mold anymore.

"...that's flesh," Kylo says in wonderment, knowing it's a bit obvious, but truly unable to think of anything else to say.

“Yes," Hux answers quickly, sharply, "it is week four since gestation began – nearly week five. The heart and spine are forming – the leg buds too. In maybe two or three weeks, they’ll be able to hear. What are you doing here?”

With a single once-over of Hux, Kylo can tell he's not been at the bridge often and certainly not eating enough. He thinks he doesn't need to tell Hux about his three week brood and that Hux would probably despise him all the more for having the pride enough to brood while Hux did all the work, alone.

Instead of owning up to his brood, Kylo diverts attention by staring at the embryo again and lying, "... I've not seen you for over two weeks. I was worried."

"No need to be, clearly," Hux tells him dismissively, his energies practically shoving Kylo out the door, "I'm quite fine. I was also in the midst of work, so if you'd see yourself out..."

At such bold and obvious animosity, Kylo picks his head up, but only in time for Hux to move his back down.

It's a silly dance they're doing now. Like children. Kylo looks up, Hux looks away, Hux looks up and Kylo looks away.

It's silly and frustrating and endearing and Kylo hates him and Kylo enjoys him beyond measure. It's maddening. 

_Do not brush me off so coldly_ , Kylo pleads, politely as he can.

“ _Don’t_ do that,” Hux commands, still not deigning to look up, which Kylo figures he should have expected.

“My mind is _off limits_ and you know that already," Hux reminds him, which Kylo did already know.

"I’m _working_ and seeing as that embryo can’t tap dance, recite chemical compounds in alphabetical order while inflicting Force Horror yet, I didn’t see it fit to alert you to any changes _worth your time,_ " Hux finishes, which Kylo figures he deserves.

There is a dense and unsettling silence - Kylo can tell Hux is tired, overworked and he's clearly worried over the embryo the past three weeks he has been absent. He uses what power he's reserved to influence Hux into looking up at him. He's fascinated in that it works, really - not because he doesn't trust his own powers, but because he's never known Hux to be so tired and so disarmed that the Force could be so properly used on him.

Kylo almost wants to laugh.

How does he say all that needs saying?

Do people just say, 'I care about you,' to one another? Do they have to explain themselves? If they do, what words is he meant to use? What sentences will doom him to Hux's cold shoulder forever or which words will promise him Hux's everlasting good opinion? Are there guarantees in these types of situations? _Is_ this even a situation? Kylo is terrible at this.

_I care about you, I don't mean to hurt you - it's just the way I am, it's all I know how to do, I get angry, I get fearful, I want you, I want you to stay, I want you to have your crown, your thrown, your child and anything else you ever so desire, I want to protect you, I want to stay with you - will you let me stay with you? Will you let me come back?_

It occurs to Kylo then that Hux may not want him back, that Hux may prefer to do this alone and... 

“You are fearless, aren’t you, Hux?”

Hux’s forehead pinches in this undeniably endearing way and he asks, “… how do you mean?”

“I have a habit of pushing away things that frighten me, always have," Kylo admits, his shame melting away into a want for sincerity, a realization that he has more to learn from Hux than he may have ever realized before, "I’ve been unkind to you and it’s nothing of your doing. It’s underserved – the way I’ve treated you as of late. Particularly our last encounter. I have no excuse for that behavior. But you…”

Kylo trails off, unsure of how to phrase himself and then he says, “… you don’t mind that I could kill you with a twist of my hand, you don’t mind undertaking the responsibility of another human’s life and wellbeing… you would truly do this alone if I were unwilling to partner with you – you may kick me out yet – and it astonishes me. How do you not feel fear in the face of all this… enormity?”

“I do,” Hux tells him frankly, “I’m petrified, Ren. But being petrified doesn’t do anyone any good. Coming to a full stop at full speed can only cause chaos – there is no getting around these things in life, Ren, there is only getting _through_ them. You will kill me or you won’t – dreading my demise by your hand is hardly worth meditating over. What will I suffer? Maybe ten seconds of consciousness before rejoining the ether? What is there to fear? What is there to waste precious energy and thought on? Nothing. You will either kill me or you won’t – I won’t be troubled by either. If you’ve not noticed, I’ve been in charge of countless lives, one might compare it to even being in charge of _an army_ – this one is only different because it is an extension of myself and it… _means_ something. Which means failure is not an option and not an imaginary option I will entertain, building worst-case scenarios just to fret over. Furthermore, I have always been alone, Ren. I do not suffer greatly at the thought of solitude with my child. I will rise to the occasion, I will follow through, I will rise above and overcome and I will succeed as I always have because there is no doing anything else. There _is_ nothing else, no other option. I feel fear, Ren, I just don’t let it control me.”

_You are stunning_ , is all Kylo can think.

He nods, crosses the room to the machine and stands across from where Hux is sitting. He bows at the waist and apologizes explicitly, “I’m sorry for what I said and how I treated you. I let my fear control me. I will make more efforts in the future to better combat my fear. I don’t have any desire for you to feel alone in this again – I should not have treated you the way I did. It may have been only a ball of cells when you took me to see them, but you were proud and excited and I stained that memory for you. I really am sorry.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Hux seems to loosen up, sigh and while fatigue washes over him, he seems sincere when he replies, “apology accepted, then.”

Harder than asking for the apology, Kylo manages to politely inquire, “may I… may I stay here for the sleep cycle? I worry I’ve worn out my welcome, but, if you’ll allow me to, I’d… I’d like to hear all that I have not been witness to in my arrogance. I will leave, though, if it’s disagreeable to you.”

Hux examines him for a few moments, before telling him, “it’s not disagreeable, Ren, I’ve been taking diligent notes on every day’s developments. You’re welcome to look them over.”

“I’d much prefer you tell me about them.”

It's clear to Kylo that Hux is surprised at first, but he acquiesces. He talks to Kylo the entire sleep cycle and he points all over the floating mass in the tank, talking about every development and where each and every growth and promise of growth could be found.

It didn’t take long after that cycle for Kylo to ask to bring his own cot into the chamber, his own clothes, toiletries and then the other Knights began to make rounds, coming in to see Desda and to appease Hux, Kylo would introduce them to the embryo, as though Desda were simply a shy child, unwilling to introduce themselves and not a hardly-formed human. Hux seemed to like that behavior, so Kylo kept it up. He made an effort to stay in Hux's good graces.

Then, Desda was born.

Desda was 'late,' as Hux kept putting it (Kylo didn't understand the concern - the baby was just cooking a bit longer, what was there to worry about?), and he was getting frantic. Kylo found Hux's aggravation and worry rather sweet, actually, and he spent a lot of time keeping Hux from fretting over them and monitoring every control. He also managed to talk Hux out of inducing whatever the labor equivalent was for their situation. How eager Hux got was sweet, but definitely worrisome. Such a strange man.

A strange, dangerous, fearless, but ultimately well-meaning man. 

Kylo is meditating by himself when his comm clicks on.

"Ren. Come to the chamber - quickly."

Kylo's heart sinks and he's standing before he's consciously telling his legs to move. His fight or flight has been engaged and, as most times, he's ready to fight - his brain decides the most responsible thing to do is produce images of Hux being accosted in the chamber somehow and still managing to contact him before anything irreversible has been done.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, anxiety mounting.

"Yes," Hux answers; Kylo sighs with relief, but then Hux adds, "but if you don't hurry, Desda will meet Phasma before meeting you."

Kylo is rather certain he’s never moved so quickly in all his life.

He actually trips on his own robes scrambling out of the room and he mows down at least six people on his way to the chamber, entirely unconcerned with their safety.

He races down the halls, turning sharp around the corners, worried, anxious, excited, fearful, present and nervous as a preteen. It’s unbecoming, he thinks, of a man his age and of his power, but he can’t really help it.

When he makes it into the chamber, Hux is already elbow-deep in the tank, clutching what is now a very blurry blob of something that’s probably, mostly functionally human.

He can feel his hair windswept and he knows he must be pale, he must look bizarre and his fears must be splayed over his face, but all he can see is Hux.

His fiery red hair is soft, freshly washed, he’s in his cotton pajama pants and this old, threadbare undershirt and he _smiles_ again – he smiles that thrice damned smile and Kylo can’t move.

Hux is _happy_ – Hux is excited gladness, his aura is intensely warm, overwhelmingly pink with love and that’s an oddity as, usually, Hux’s aura is a sort of rustic orange. The reds usually indicate ambition and drive and the oranges usually indicate anxieties and insecurities. But none of those colors are there.

In its place is this beam of something shimmering, something glowing and proud and if Hux can’t cap it, he’ll draw every unhappy creature in the galaxy to his beacon of joy.

His aura now is… sidereal.

It’s _beautiful_ , _he_ is – _Hux_ is beautiful; his pale and blushing face is handsome and scared and so pleased and he’s _smiling_ , smiling at Kylo like Kylo deserves to see something like that, like Kylo has earned it somehow, like _he’s_ glad to see _Kylo_ and Kylo’s heart is climbing up his throat while his stomach gathers somewhere around his feet at just the possibility of that being true.

“Would you like to help deliver them?” Hux asks kindly.

Kylo bobs his head and strides toward Hux almost robotically – he’s in shock again, maybe. It’s not too dissimilar to how he felt on Starkiller. All the fire and ice and fear and hatred and desire and pain and confusion and the improbability and implausibility of General Hux calling him by his chosen name – it’s all surreal. Shouldn’t make a lick of sense, but he’s here and knows it’s real.

He stands by Hux and fearlessly reaches in where Hux’s arms are – there is some burning on his skin from whatever fluid is inside, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s much, much too distracted with the sensation of something _squirming_.

It’s _moving_.

_Them_ – _they’re_ moving.

The _person_ – _the person_ that’s been in that tank for over nine standard months, the person that’s part him and part Hux and so fragile and so new and depending entirely on his and Hux’s hands to carry them into the light of life and Kylo, entirely unintentionally, thinks of Han.

He thinks of Han and wonders if Han was so petrified when first holding him.

He thinks of Leia and wonders if Leia was so pleased or unafraid as Hux seems to be.

He feels small again, he feels like a frightened child in an enormous galaxy and he wants his parents there – he wants to ask them what he does from here, what can he do so that absolutely nothing bad can happen to the small person he’s made and they can’t help him.

They never were able to help him.

He still wishes they could.

His vision gets cloudy as Desda is pulled from the tank.

He still thinks of his parents and he wonders if Han is watching from somewhere, if Han is proud or frightened or both. And for who.

He thinks Han probably thought about this day. He probably pictured a young woman, though. Han probably imagined some demure woman with dark features like his, lying on hospital bed sheets, screaming and pushing and Kylo there, but someone else – someone who was Ben Organa. Han probably imagined Ben Organa’s child, what being a grandfather would be like.

He was probably excited about it too.

He wonders if Han ever considered what Kylo Ren’s child would be like.

Would he still be glad? Would he still gloat and wager bets on the hours spent in labor or would he still have grinned that wolfish way he did when things went precisely how he wanted them to?

Would Han have helped calm Hux’s frayed nerves when Desda was ‘late,’ as he would have helped any woman breath through her contractions and tears?

Could Han have ever loved him for what he’s been? What he’s become?

And now, in his arms, what he _will_ become 

He wonders if Leia…

Well, he wonders on Leia.

He could alert her. She is still out there – he could contact her and let her know she has a grandchild. He could sob the way he feels like he needs to, he could plead with her to help him keep Desda safe from every evil that’s ever been.

She wouldn’t turn him away. But she doesn’t love Kylo Ren. She doesn’t know who Kylo Ren is. She loved Ben Organa and he’s dead now and his ashen memories belong to a body that is no longer his. This tall, strong body is Kylo Ren’s body and it’s Kylo Ren’s child. 

He could alert her, but he won’t. He can’t. Not really.

He can’t remember the last time he was so scared that he felt the instinct to run to his mother for safety.

He wonders if Kylo Ren is the person he has always thought he was. Maybe Kylo Ren never existed. Or perhaps, Kylo Ren, as he was, is dead now too, in the face of being a father. Maybe holding Desda was the crushing blow that decimated the man that once was Kylo Ren.

Who is he now? With this little thing, taking its first breaths of air and altering Kylo’s identity without meaning to.

Can he protect them? Can he shield them? Can he fight for them? And for Hux? Should he have left Hux? Should he have given Sol his, potentially, rightful place beside Hux? Should this child not have been forced to be bound to him? Can he do nothing but fail them?

He’s given little time to dwell on that line of thought, because as soon as Desda is free from the tank, they are planted in Kylo’s arms and there – simple and beautiful, they have blonde-red curls already sprouting from the top of their head like a flowerbed. They’ve got pouty lips that Kylo recognizes as his own – he remembers them from holophotos of himself as a newborn.

They have freckles and café au lait spots on their legs that Kylo stole from Hux’s codes of DNA (he does wonder, briefly, if Hux also has those spots on his legs) and he vaguely hears Hux ask him something, but he can’t make any sense of it. No noise makes any sense except what small sounds are coming from Desda.

Desda.

His _person_ – his small, defenseless, beautiful, impossible person.

He heard something as a child, that a mother truly becomes a mother as soon as she knows she’s pregnant, but that a man only becomes a father when he sees his child for the first time.

It’s a bit archaic, murky and unclear and unfair as most ancient, traditional gender roles are. He doesn’t think there’s much to that thought he once heard, but he knows he did not feel like a father until this very moment.

Desda was a thing – not a ‘they.’

They weren’t real yet, they weren’t breathing and blinking with wormy, tiny, toes and fingers and muscle enough to squirm and stretch. And now they’re in his arms and there’s no denying that Desda is his, his and Hux’s and here and entirely trusting of him.

When Desda lets out a cry, Kylo almost wants to jump away in fright and he thinks he hears Hux laugh, but there’s white noise occupying the entire inside of Kylo’s skull. He hardly hears it.

The only thing he really hears is what Hux announces directly next to him.

“Well – welcome to the galaxy, Desda.”

Kylo’s heart thuds in a way that feels sickening, almost – it’s so hard, it’s so fast and he looks at Hux, but Hux isn’t looking at him.

It all hits him, then. Like a collapsing building, every lie he’s told himself in recent months is broken apart and he’s drowning beneath the truth of it.

He’s in love with Hux and there’s nothing to be done for it. It’s already happened. It’s too late.

He loves Hux, he loves the way Hux smiles, the way he sneers, the way he whispers, the way he shouts, the way his lips and ear-tips get dark when he’s flustered, the way his hair falls around his eyes when it’s not slicked back, he loves the smell of Hux, how tall he is, how raspy his voice can get during sleep cycles. He loves Hux's creativity, he loves Hux's stability and strength, he loves Hux's mind and Hux's body and Hux's presence and Hux's _everything_ – he _loves_ Hux.

He stares in wonderment at Hux, petrified, absolutely petrified, holding his and Hux’s child in his arms and he could fool himself – he could tell himself it’s just the unreality of being a new father that’s making feel this way, but that lie is so weak. It’s so weak in the face of the adoration he’s harbored for Hux, the adoration that’s been mounting for over a standard year now.

Hux suits him. Hux takes his side, whether he’s right or wrong, Hux will kill for him – even if it’s another Knight that has taken stand against Kylo and Hux will die for him, even if means throwing himself halfway down a fiery crevasse of a crumbling planet.

A tender hand reaches into Kylo’s arms, petting Desda’s pink cheek and Hux whispers to the baby, conspiratorially, “you should probably say hello to your da, Desda – he looks about ready to buckle at the knees.”

It’s right then that Hux looks at Kylo, smiling as if he’s told just a fantastic joke, no idea what just the sound of his voice means now.

“Take them from my hands, Ren,” Hux directs gently, “I need to sever the cord and get some towels. Hold them up to your heart so they can hear it beating.”

_It’s too loud, it will upset them_ , Kylo thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.

He moves his arms so that Hux’s hands can slide away and he moves his glassy eyes from Hux’s back to Desda’s plush face. He shifts them upward, puts their ear right by his pounding heart and they seem to calm down a little. Not in recognition, Kylo knows, but perhaps the sound is distracting from what must be cold, confusion and disorientation. The lights must be so bright, the sounds must be so loud, he even worries that his robes are not soft enough to be touching Desda’s skin for how sensitive it might be.

He holds Desda for something close to an eternity in silence, wanting to tell them everything and show them the whole galaxy and let them be surrounded by love and awe as he thinks is only appropriate.

“Has everything gone alright? All limbs and digits accounted for? Eyes open?”

Ah, Phasma is there it would seem.

Kylo still can’t draw his eyes away from his baby, though.

“Yes, yes and yes,” Hux answers, returning with a towel to clean Desda off as best he can with them still tucked tightly against Kylo’s chest, “Ren appears to be in some sort of catatonic shock, but I assure you all is well.”

Phasma laughs and says over Kylo’s shoulder, “they’ve got your eyes, Hux. What a beauty.”

_Beauty?_ Kylo could strike her for such an understatement. _Beauty?_   Desda is every gem and crystal and precious jewel and stone that has ever glittered in the ever expanding light of their infant universe, they are every movement of the cosmos, every rolling wave of deep ocean, every gentle breeze and sweet fruit of every healthy vine, they are every shine of gold and silver and they’re everything that is good and pure and innocent in every universe there has ever been.

“They’re perfect,” Kylo corrects.

He knows he’s being stared at, but he can’t find it in himself to look back at Phasma or Hux.

He loves Hux.

He loves Hux so much it hurts, it’s painful and demented and perfect and beautiful and he loves Desda, he loves Desda so immediately, so unconditionally, there is no wrong Desda could ever commit. 

He feels _love_.

It’s strangling him, it’s so intense, so binding, so absolutely incomparable, he doesn’t know that he can survive it.

“They are the most perfect thing in this universe, Hux,” he whispers.

“They are,” Hux agrees and Kylo can already tell that Hux is misunderstanding him – Hux thinks it’s a compliment to his hard work on a project or weapon design or something, but it’s not. It’s sincere, it’s his soul and his heart and love he never asked for, maybe never even wanted before, but is so thrilled to have now that he cannot imagine living without it.

“I’m glad you’re pleased with the results, uhm - with them.”

Knowing he has to clarify, Kylo says back, “no, Hux – I love them. I love them – I  _adore_ them. This is my  _child_ – our child, Hux.”

With great effort, he pulls his eyes up to meet Hux’s and he emphasizes, “ _our_ child, Hux… they’re beautiful and perfect. The most perfect thing I’ve ever beheld.”

_To think I once meant to stop you… I am ashamed, Hux._

It becomes apparent that Hux doesn’t know what to make of that thought, which is fine and well, because the rest of the Knights come bursting in, circling Ren to get a look at Desda, all sending him telepathic compliments and questions, telling Kylo that they’re beautiful – yes, he knows – telling him that they’re healthy – of course, Hux oversaw their development – telling him that they’re perfect and he knows. He knows.

_Perfect_ , he sends directly to Hux.

And Kylo means everything.

Because right then, for that moment, his life is perfect.

Hux is perfect and Hux is perfect _for_ him and what Hux makes him _feel_ is perfect and their _child_ – their child, Desda – they are perfect, beyond perfect and yes, he feels small. He feels lost. He feels scared. He feels ill-equipped and petrified, but he loves. He loves and it takes up everything inside him and it’s perfect.

It’s perfect. 


	6. Chapter 6

Kylo’s descent into unrelenting, near-maddening love is none too gentle.

And frankly, Kylo feels a bit cheated.

If he was going to fall in love in his life – and so deeply, so hurriedly, so _intensely_ , at that – he would have liked to be consulted on the matter. Especially by his Co-Commander, of all people.

One would think Hux would’ve been courteous enough to let him know it’s impossible to stare into his eyes for an extended period without getting wondrously lost in them, but no. Hux gave him no warning at all.

On Starkiller base, Hux screamed out his name as a warning and when that Hellish crevasse opened too widely, too quickly, Hux lunged forward and caught him before the fall.

But every cycle since then, it seems Hux has let him fall without care or concern.

Kylo would like to be able to honestly say that being deplorably in love with Hux is unlike some illusory Hellscape shaking the foundation of all he once knew to be safe and solid, but…

Well, as it turns out, that literal Hell Hole that tried to kill him on Starkiller base seems like child’s play compared to what a simple side-glance from Hux can inflict.

And that really is all Hux allows for – he’s always been one to mind his own space, never hover or sit too close, but now that Kylo is starving for Hux’s attention, he can’t help but notice how willing Hux is to hold Desda, touch Desda, let Desda play with his hair and pat at his face and how equally _unwilling_ he is to allow anyone else within a five-foot radius of his person.

Occasionally, they’ll stand close enough that their shoulders brush or Kylo will lean near Hux to whisper something to him and his hair will fall over Hux’s in a way that somehow doesn’t prompt Hux to brush it away with a scowl.

That’s all Kylo really gets from Hux, though, in regard to physicality.

He’s not sure what he expected to change once Desda was born, but he obviously expected _something_ if his disappointment is anything to go by.

He’s resigning himself to that physical starvation when, one day, the inexplicable happens.

The end of Snoke could have easily thrown the war’s glorious end into Rebel hands, but with the stability of Hux and the enforcement of his power by the Knights, the war is still on. Battles rage still and then there comes one particular battle on one of the Core planets that Hux had been very hesitant to let Kylo go to.

That was a bit interesting in and of itself – Hux was hardly one to hesitate about _anything_ , nevermind battle. Still – he seemed very hesitant and worried, even.

In Kylo’s mind, this would either have to do with Hux’s envy over the glory of battle not being shared with him (Kylo knew that for several battles, against Hux’s loud and adamant wishes, he could not join his army. Hux was forced to remain behind the lines, running numbers, hypotheticals, plotting attack formations, designing defenses and in all ways, working as the Order’s sole, genius tactician. He was deemed indispensable, and so was not permitted on the front lines, which Kylo had been secretly glad for) – as it was not in Hux’s nature to stay behind the guard of others like that and he clearly hated every moment of not being with his people.

Kylo could still remember the speech Hux gave when Starkiller was being revealed to the galaxy for the first time. On that day, Hux had rightfully credited his army with its creation and success. It could not have seen its full potential without them and, honorably, Hux stood by them when it was first fired because of his innate sense of unity and leadership.

So – Hux was hesitant, perhaps, because he was envious and if he was being made to stand by, he might have wanted Kylo to as well, have them both suffer the stagnation. That didn’t ring entirely true to Kylo, though.

The other reason may be more complicated – he may have been worried over the battle outcome, maybe he worried over the war still going on at all or maybe Kylo wouldn’t understand the reasons Hux was worried even if they were explained to him.

No matter the case, Kylo left, as he always had and would, and Kylo fought – as he always had and always would. The fight wasn’t clean or simple and there were Rebellion base maps on the other line that Kylo needed to get to – so it was a grisly battle that went on far longer than he’d liked.

Pods of survivors, fleeing back to their soon-to-be Emperor, left him there in the blaster-fire and even several of the Knights returned to the palace before Kylo even got a chance to catch his breath. When he did get that chance, he found himself wrung dry, out of breath, his abilities stretched thin and patience stretched even thinner.

He noticed too, that his comm was out.

He didn’t have the luxury of time to try to fix it or even fret over it – blasters found him and he dove back into the fray without a second thought.

Not that it was at all simple, but Kylo only returned to the palace once he knew he had the maps on a small drive.

He was returning alone and he thought about the nature of his return; he thought his Knights probably stayed up to see him return, though they could likely feel his wellness through the Force, even if they couldn’t hear from him.

He imagined returning and sneaking into Desda’s room to give her forehead a peck and he’d maybe see Hux in the early hours of the next cycle.

Hux would probably be cross with him, he realized, for having taken so long, but he’d not be cross for long once Kylo would present the drive. He smiled to himself anyway, imagining the cute furrow between Hux’s brows when he gets chatty and argumentative.

Kylo begins to look forward to it.

Dawn is only just breaking as Kylo lands the pod – he is tired and needs a hot shower, he hardly cares about the single, transport pod that would be dented beyond all repair once he came to a stop.

As the doors slide open, Kylo is halted.

It occurs to him instantly that he is very much not alone.

Troopers, Officers, Knights and soldiers alike stand in wait for him, but what draws his eyes like a moth to a flame is, as always, Hux.

_He stayed up to receive me?_ Kylo wonders – it’s odd to consider, Hux staying up and about when he could (and probably _should_ ) be resting. He’s worried he’s failed in some way and that Hux is standing there to scold him for something he’s yet to realize he’s done and while he’s worrying over all that, he misses the middle part.

The middle part is where the fascinating bit probably happened – the beginning part is where Hux _was_ on the steps of the palace, many yards away, the middle is a fatigued blur where Kylo wasn’t paying attention and the end is _all of Hux_ pressed tightly against _all of Kylo_.

Arms lock around his neck, a familiar and handsome face tucks into the crook of his neck and shoulder and Kylo nearly loses his footing. His face and ears get hot, his whole body wakes up and the aches and bruises and fractures he’s suffering are all muted against the pleasure of having Hux – **_Hux_** – _in his arms_.

“You scared me,” Hux shudders in a breath against Kylo’s neck.

Kylo has no idea how to respond to that.

He’s stunned beyond all reason.

What exactly did Kylo do that could warrant that statement? He didn’t even realize he had the _capability_ of scaring Hux.

Hux wasn’t scared of anything, really – wasn’t scared to raise Desda alone, wasn’t scared to talk back to him or challenge him – _knowing_ Kylo’s powers – Hux was never scared of him, actually – not once in their history together.

He can’t imagine what he’s done to scare Hux, but Hux answers his questions before he can form them.

“I know what lives we live, I know what dangers are to come and I know you can’t make promises like this, but promise me anyway that you won’t do that to me again.”

Kylo stiffens up.

It’s unlike Hux to ask for something like this.

It’s unlike Hux to plead for something sweet and falsely reassuring – especially knowingly.

It takes a beat or two for Kylo to figure out that Hux is waiting for his reply and Kylo refuses to pass up the chance to touch Hux this way – for all Kylo knows, it may be his only chance to ever hold Hux like this and he’s a selfish man, so he pulls Hux in closer.

He wraps his own arms around Hux’s back, nuzzles Hux’s neck in a way that mirrors what Hux is doing to his own and he breathes in deeply. He smells Hux’s cologne, his hair products, his clean skin and freshly pressed uniform and it’s disgusting, really, how much comfort he takes in it.

Hux has made him so weak.

He doesn’t mind.

He’s still waiting for the sting of how much of a disappointment he’s been, he’s waiting for Hux to smack him upside the head or shout at him about all the things he could have done when his comm went out, all the things he was supposed to do while gone, but Hux stays quiet.

Hoping to avoid Hux’s wrath as Kylo had been groomed to anticipate Snoke’s, he tells Hux, “I’m sorry I scared you. I promise, I’ll do better.”

“You don’t need to do better, Ren – you’re already doing your best and I’m proud of you, I commend you for all you’ve done and all you do – your best is more than enough, Ren.”

Kylo’s breath catches and his heart thuds angrily against his ribs, like it resents his body for keeping it encased.

He doesn’t need to do _better_? – that doesn’t make _sense_. He’s _always_ had to do, act, think, make, _be_ better.

Hux _knows_ he’s trying his best? More over – Hux is _proud_ of him? Hux _commends_ him?

Hux is not Snoke.

Kylo is reminded of this periodically – Hux doesn’t mean to use him, Hux means to make him integral and still, he is shocked with the evidence of what he should know already.

_I’m sorry I doubt you_ , Kylo thinks, _I doubt you too often. I keep expecting this bubble to pop, for Snoke to arrive and strip me of you, of Desda, of all that’s given me any semblance of joy – I keep expecting the worst. You are so much more than that, though. You keep surprising me. You keep choosing me and I don’t understand why. I want to ask you so badly, but you make it impossible, Hux. You’re absolutely impossible. I love it. I love **you**._

“You’ve fought bravely and honorably and your ‘best,’ is in no way a problem and you are not beholden to me, ever – I am not Snoke. I am not your keeper, Ren. I just…”

He worries briefly that Hux can hear his thoughts and his heart starts pounding away again. He can sense when Hux feels it against his own chest – he seems concerned that he’s making Kylo uncomfortable, which is actually laughable to Kylo.

“I just…” Hux trails off.

Kylo can’t stand the silence, needs to know, needs Hux closer and for longer and when a moment passes, he asks, “you just what?”

“Oh, _Hells_ , Ren, just don’t leave me,” Hux rasps and Kylo’s body doesn’t know what to do but to squeeze Hux more tightly to him.

He half-expects Hux to snap out of whatever spell he seems under at his hold tightening, but rather than complaints or shouts or hurried apologies while backing away quicker than necessary – Hux sighs.

He sighs like he’s being laid to rest and Kylo revels in the heat of Hux’s breath against his skin.

He shuts his eyes and holds Hux closely to him, wondering what it might be like to brush his lips against Hux’s temple, what it might be like to back up enough that their foreheads rest against each other, what it might be like to close in again too.

He imagines keeping Hux there, in the circle of his arms, in front of everyone and leaning in to kiss him and what unadulterated euphoria that might bring with it. He thinks that if he ever did kiss Hux, he wouldn’t be able to shut his eyes – he’d want to see everything too badly.

Would Hux’s eyes flutter shut or round out in shock? Would his brows spring up, turn in or down? Would his face blanche or redden or would his stoicism make itself known and keep him calm, cool and collected? Would he put his hands on Kylo? Would he grip at Kylo’s neck, shoulders or chest – or would he be daring enough to tug at Kylo’s hair?

But there’s fear too – always, want is followed by fear.

What if Hux’s eyes kept open and sharpened like daggers with hatred and disgust? What if his brows knit in abject bewilderment while his skin stayed like satin over cool stone? What if he refused to touch Kylo back? Or worse, perhaps – what if he did touch Kylo, but it was only to punch, smack, push or do absolutely anything to claw away?

What if Hux kicked him out of the palace? Out of his life – out of Desda’s life? What if Hux felt attacked or invaded and couldn’t forgive him? Couldn’t let it all go? What if Hux hated him for it?

Or, certainly worse – what if Hux _could_ forgive him?

What if Hux could live with him after that, could accept an awkward apology and then never look him in the eye again?

What if Hux drew in on himself, taking away the glimpse of himself he gives Kylo with him?

What if, on the rare occasions their hands brushed, Hux snapped his back and tried to pretend he wasn’t disgusted?

What if when Kylo’s hair draped over Hux’s, Hux stumbled back in alarm, frightened that Kylo might try to kiss him again?

What if he slips from Kylo’s hand like mist? What if he vanishes all while still standing there?

He promised to stay – what seems like infinite cycles ago, Kylo swore to stay by Hux’s side in his pursuit of power and parenthood. He swore to stay.

He won’t allow Hux to be left alone – not again.

He’d not give Hux reason to dismiss him, he’d not act without thinking, he’d not let his passion override his senses – because if he did, he risked his own loneliness, but more importantly, he risked being forced to leave Hux and their child in solitude.

Kylo’s hands tremble a little and he swears again, “I promise, then, Hux, that I won’t. I won’t leave you.”

It’s at that that Hux pulls away, but when Kylo thinks Hux is going to step back and away, he only pulls away enough to stay in the loosened ring of Kylo’s hold. He keeps their faces close and he has no idea.

Kylo can tell – Hux has no idea the power he wields. He has no idea that if he just shifts his jaw to the right, just a little, their lips could slot together and it’s taking every modicum of self-control Kylo has ever had in his body and mind to not let himself fall into the magnetic pull of Hux’s full lips and defined cupid’s bow.

Kylo moves his eyes up Hux’s face to his eyes and despite that gaze being one of the most mesmerizing and equally terrifying things to him in the known galaxy, he presents his stare bravely.

Bravery is not reflected back, though.

It confuses Kylo at first – Hux’s eyes are glassy, but his aura is shining and silvery with abundance and there’s a pink tint to it, indicating happiness and wellness. It’s not the aura colors Kylo is used to seeing with Hux.

It’s all the more handsome for how unusual it is.

He keeps his face close to Hux’s, fighting all his most natural urges, cherishing the short puffs of air that move gently over his lips from Hux’s.

“I won’t leave you,” Kylo promises again.

Then, he feels he needs to say – because he’s still truly confused by the new and significant offers of sentimentality, “…I never thought you’d fear my... departure.”

Hux’s eyes flicker back and forth between his and his cheeks redden a little. Kylo is worried he’s said too much, but Hux only answers, “I… never thought I would either.”

Maybe that answer shouldn’t make Kylo smile, but it does anyway.

That Hux is looking befuddled and it’s endearing and, really, it’s rather nice to be on the same wrong-footedness again. It helps Kylo not feel so alone in his madness.

He pets Hux’s high cheekbone, mistakenly smearing blood there, getting a read on Hux’s body; Force Healing has never been a particular specialty of Kylo’s, but for Hux, he’ll fix any woe or wound.

He finds little else than a painfully empty stomach, soreness from pacing and muscle tension and fatigue.

“You’ve not slept or eaten,” Kylo observes, still charmed, “I really did worry you, didn’t I?”

“More than you could possibly know,” Hux tells him plainly – as if a statement like that, if it is said in all honesty (which Kylo can sense it is), wouldn’t mean everything to Kylo.

And it does.

“You’re going to give me premature grey hairs, you know,” Hux complains, “I’ll age terribly and it will be entirely your fault.”

Kylo smiles despite efforts not to and he insists, “I cannot be held accountable for your inevitable transformation into a silver fox.”

It’s red-headed people that go all white and silver in aging, isn’t it? Kylo decides not to ask – he’s rather sure he remembers that from somewhere in his far past.

“Silver fox?” Hux asks with a rising blush, “What in the stars do you mean?”

Inspired, Kylo touches gently at Hux’s fringe and tells him simply, “you’ll age beautifully, Hux. And you’ll look good, silver and white someday. It will suit you.”

Hux stares at him in something like thoughtful wonderment and Kylo’s a split second from needing to break away from Hux entirely or else fall into him, kiss him and risk everything he has when Desda cries out.

They both jump, both yanked violently back into reality and real time and they rush over to where another Knight is holding her. It’s much easier to focus on Desda when Kylo can’t stand being alone in his own head for too long – all that’s there is Hux, Hux, _Hux, Hux, Hux_ and want so powerful it hurts and heals all at once and fear so deep it’s crippling and Hux, perfection in human form.


End file.
